One Final Try
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: Erik returns to the Xavier estate with Raven in tow, and he tells Charles about a few realizations that led him to a single conclusion: that Erik and Raven want to be a part of Charles' little mutant family again. .:. slashy domestic drabbles. AU post-FC.
1. 01: The 411 On The Situation

**A/N: For _rulebenders_ on Tumblr. Ask for a domestic-type Mutant Daddies with Mutant Kiddies fic for the lulz, and you shall receive! ;D**

**Is this has been done outside of comics I've seen, I apologize. I didn't mean to steal your idea. I just wanted to try this. D:**

**This is totally humor/romance, and my own AU after the film. Enjoy the random cuteness of this drabble series! XD**

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><p><em>01. The 411 On The Situation.<em>

It's a year following what the students of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters are calling "the divorce" that their "parents" wind up getting back together.

Sean and Alex had wagers on when it would happen, actually. Raven was skeptical, if only because of her feelings toward the two men, but eventually, she understood, and she accepted it as the normal.

Hank, of course, was always completely oblivious to it, shy about it, and a little embarrassed by it. It's odd to say, 'I have two surrogate fathers' in this day and age of the nineteen-sixties.

Shaw's followers who joined Erik out of lack of a better choice decided to keep out of it, for the most part. They would rather not get involved in family affairs, especially between such a tight-knit group. So they kept in touch, finally free from their fear of defying Shaw to be actually decent people, because mutant or not, they still have human _hearts. _


	2. 02: Relationship Status

**A/N: There will be a great many drabbles in this fic, so don't fret! There very well be as many as my last drabble series (something for the Glee fandom), meaning 30-or-so in total. Maybe more, maybe less, depending on inspiration of family moments. Prepare for some serious things, some fluffy-cute things, some boarderline sexual things (but this fic is remaining Rated T; so... sorry?), but above all else, full of some humorous and adorably-dysfunctional-household sort of family-oriented things. C:**

**Oh, and don't forget to review because you like me. Or love me. Or at least have something random to say to me. XD**

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><p><em>02. Relationship Status.<em>

Emma is like the distant aunt who teases her nieces and nephews and comes and goes. Azazel is like an awkward uncle, stopping by when he can or when he wants to, but usually with someone else in tow because he doesn't feel as connected as he should to the others.

Sean and Alex are the troublemakers, Sean more-so, because he likes to play pranks, and Alex simply because he's a bit of a hard-edged rebel. And Raven is somewhere in the middle, like the older sister with two annoying younger brothers that she constantly has to separate or avoid. And Hank is another matter entirely, because he sticks to his projects and only socializes when he knows he has something to share.

And then, of course, there is Mommy and Daddy.

Charles finds it demeaning that he's been labeled as the mother, but he can't say he disagrees. He calmly, lovingly scolds and teaches the younger mutants, not to mention he frets over them like a ruffled mother hen.

And it's a little embarrassing, too, the way he and Erik were shoved together, automatically deemed the married couple of the group, and thank God that Erik thus far hasn't heard a whisper of 'Daddy' or 'Dad' around him, nor has heard the younger mutants' thoughts, nor has Charles accidentally let any of it slip from what he's picked up. It very well might sabotage the relationship it took so long to rebuild again after that fateful day on the beach in Cuba.


	3. 03: You Came Back

_03. You Came Back_

It had been a lovely day, for the most part. Charles was going over plans to turn one of the spare rooms into a second Cerebro, and a more advanced model, with Hank. There were whiteprints scattered all over Charles' study. – They were _white _with _red _pencil, too, because Hank disliked the blue paper of blueprints or the traditional blue pencil for whiteprints; he was still touchy about his recent, sudden, full transformation into the fuzzy creature he became, and he only tolerated the nickname "Beast"because it stuck, and he admittedly had always liked _The Beauty and The Beast_.

Still, it was sunny and mild, scattered white clouds in a blue sky, and nothing of consequence was happening. So to speak, because Charles could hear Sean and Alex sparring in the yard through the open window, and it sounded as though they might resort to using their special abilities if someone like Raven didn't intervene soon.

And that was when there was a startled gasp, and in a rush that was like a tidal wave, Charles bolted upright in his wheelchair and shushed Hank for a moment. And he heard it, Sean's and Alex's thoughts simultaneously:

_Holy shit, Magneto!_

_What the hell is Magneto doing here?_

_Better not have come to hurt the professor again!_

_I need to tell the professor! –If you can hear this, professor, HIDE!_

Charles rolled his rich blue eyes. He shook his head. "Hank? I believe we're finished for the day. We can go over more details later. For the time being, there is another curiosity I must attend to." And with that, he began to wheel himself to the door, and soon, to the entrance hall.

It didn't take long for Erik to storm the mansion, bursting in through the doors, Sean and Alex scrambling for battle positions to block the way, and Raven – naked, blue, _mutant and proud_ – trailing along behind the whoosh of his cape.

It was Erik's turn to roll his eyes as Charles came to the stairs, and Charles could see his friend/enemy, and yet, his friend/enemy could not see him.

"Calm down, boys. I'm not here to hurt anyone. Raven and I are here with good intentions. Where is Charles? I wish to speak to him, and before you ask, I _am _only going to _speak _with him," Erik said dryly, folding his arms over his chest. He was dressed in a comical outfit, in Charles' opinion. He nearly cracked a grin or bubbled with laughter, and somehow managed to control himself at the sight of the red and purple monstrosity, complete with cape and all.

Charles descended the ramp – they planned on installing an elevator soon, since Charles had plenty of financial resources to do so – and rolled right in front of his equal. "I'm right here, Erik. Where would you like to converse?"

And the professor made sure to keep his tone level, casual. And he made damn well sure to seem indifferent, as if nothing sour had ever come between them, because he would hate to set Erik off at a crucial moment such as this. He didn't even pry into Erik's mind, because, despite the clothing, Erik was missing his helmet of before.

"The foyer would be fine. Tea in front of the fireplace over chess sounds like a long-lost luxury I would love to have again."

It was like a peace offering, one Charles was startled to hear but gladly took hold of, and with a small smile, and he said, "Fantastic. Raven, you may join the others if you like, and reunite with them." He paused, "Come with me, Erik," and wheeled himself toward the kitchen to put on the kettle for tea.


	4. 04: One Final Try

_04. One Final Try_

"What brings you back here, Erik? I would like to skip the usual formalities and cut to the chase this time. It's… highly unexpected," Charles offered softly on that day, his lips ghosting over the rim of his tea – Earl Grey, one of his favorites – before taking a tentative sip, mindful of the temperature.

Erik sighed heavily, and unbeknownst to him (but known to Charles, naturally), all of the children – _their _children – were outside the wooden double-doors that lead into the foyer, listening in. Raven was pressed tightly to the door, Hank was standing with an intrigued look on his face as he stood nearby, and Sean and Alex were giving one another glances as they, too, lingered right in front of the stained, carved oak.

"I'm here to make amends, my friend," Erik began thickly, as if it was like swallowing pine tree sap as he spoke. "I honestly meant you no harm, that day. And the more weeks and months passed, I realized how alone I was without you around, even if I had Shaw's minions now as my own, and even if I had Raven by my side. And I also realized… that I wouldn't be able to find mutants as well, even with Emma's telepathic assistance, simply because I did not have Cerebro, nor you to operate it."

Charles smiled faintly. "I'm glad you've come to your senses, then. Part of me can tell that you refuse to let go of your pessimistic views, but I will respect them and not bring tem up if you return the favor with my own views. Together, Erik, I feel like a brighter future may be ahead, starting with our little family here."

"Family?" Erik repeated, frowning slightly. "Is that what you've all become?"

Charles nodded. He licked his lips briefly – Erik subtly taking note of the movement – and replied, "We've been essentially living together since our training began a little over a year ago, Erik. And living closely with other people bonds you to them like family. That's how Raven is my sister, after all. I grew up with her. And, if all goes well, these kids will grow up together as well, as be bonded in brotherhood."

"Brotherhood," Erik retorted, huffing a curt exhale akin to a snort of irony. "I had been planning on calling my allegiance of mutants precisely that." He sipped thoughtfully at his tea and crossed his legs at the knee, leaning back in his chair. "But I've given up, for the time being. Things don't feel right, not in timing, nor in morality, which is strange, because normally I'm not one to care about morals. I blame your influence for that, Charles. Seemed I couldn't get you out of my head even when you weren't poking and prodding around in it."

Charles pretended not to catch the double-meaning of that final bit, and instead focused on asking, "So what now, Erik? You and Raven will both move in and become part of our family? You'll give us one final try to see if you fit in? Because if you left again… It might not bode well."

"Yes, one final try is what I'm aiming for, Charles. And as far as I can say, I don't plan on leaving again any time soon."

"Oh," Charles answered with a grin he couldn't help from spreading across his lips in relief and joy over the response, "In that case, welcome back!" And he chuckles a little, and he was glad to see a smile reaching Erik's tightly drawn lips.


	5. 05: Too Many Apologies: Raven

_05. Too Many Apologies: Raven._

It's the first full day of their reunited family when it seems all Charles can hear are apologies.

Raven is the first. She comes into Charles' bedroom in the morning, tray in hand, and murmurs that she made him breakfast.

He sits up, using his headboard for a moment to push himself and balance properly, his early morning grogginess still in effect. "You didn't need to do this," he says softly. Raven shakes her head, red hair fluttering around her neck and shoulders. She sets the tray in his lap over his bedcovers and sits beside him on the edge of the bed.

"No, it's the least I could do. I feel awful about leaving you on that beach last year, Charles. I want you to know how sorry I am, and that I never meant to hurt you; and no, don't argue with me, because I know it must have hurt." She sniffles, but doesn't shed a tear, and then she sighs heavily. "So this is me making it up to you."

Charles smiles fondly, takes a bite of the omelet she made him, and hums. "It's delicious, Raven. Thank you." He sets the tray aside for a moment and leans forward. "Come here."

She doesn't need to be asked twice. Her eyes finally cloud with tears and she falls into his open arms. She trembles a bit, huffing breaths that aren't quite sobs, and then mumbles form her tight throat, her voice muffled by Charles' bedclothes, "I'm so sorry, Charles. So, so sorry…"

He strokes her hair, an idle smile soft on the corners of his mouth, and he rubs his other hand in small circles over the middle of her bare back, scales brushing his fingertips and feeling cool to the touch. He's used to her nudity, now, and doesn't feel as uncomfortable as he normally would. After all, she's like a sister, like a daughter, like part of his won flesh and blood, and he loves her just the way she is.


	6. 06: Too Many Apologies: Erik

_06. Too Many Apologies: Erik._

Later on that first full day, Charles hears more apologies.

Sean breaks a mirror by mistake, after waking from a nightmare and yelling, bolted upright in bed and accidentally aiming at the mirror above the dresser perpendicular to his bed. And so there is his apology, saying he will do yard work in exchange for the cost of the mirror.

Alex discovers that his laser-like ability also runs through his hands, and he accidentally burns an imprint into the countertop in the kitchen. And there is his own apology, saying that he will do dishes for a month in exchange for the cost of the countertop.

But it's Erik's apology that is the most intense, because unlike Raven's that was warm and sweet and full of contact, Erik's is brief and painful and cold with guilt so thick that Charles doesn't need to be in Erik's head to feel it.

Erik approaches Charles later in the evening, following dinner (Alex clinking around in the kitchen, doing the pots, pans, and dishes). He is stiff and dressed casually, returned to his habit of wearing turtleneck sweaters with slacks and the occasional leather jacket. The jacket is absent, since the weather has been nice, but he still looks a chilled and reserved.

"Yes? What is it, Erik? You seem troubled," Charles remarks as he sets aside a book and peers upward. He's in his study, perched in his wheelchair not too far from a familiar chessboard.

Erik paces fluidly over to a nearby chair, pulling up a chair to sit in front of his friend. He looks conflicted, his face torn between emotions, but still, that unadulterated _guilt_ is rolling off of him in waves, and is nearly suffocating Charles.

"You know you can tell me anything, don't you? What's eating at you?" Charles asks with weighted concern; still, he tries to keep his voice light and gentle.

"I failed you, Charles," Erik mutters, his voice low. He glances upward, their eyes meeting. There is regret and pain in Erik's eyes. "I… I am so, _so _incredibly sorry. I made you this way," and he gestures to the wheelchair, to Charles' useless legs, and then he breaks. He chokes on a sob, eyes welling, and he bows his head again in shame. "Please forgive me, Charles. Forgive me for wounding you, and for leaving you when you needed me. I don't… I'm heartless at times, and I apologize."

"What?" Charles half-whispers, leaning forward to grasp Erik's hand. "No, Erik, don't feel that way. You have plenty of heart; didn't I tell you so? There is good in you, Erik. This is proof enough: you cared enough to return, and you're humble enough to admit to the accident and apologize." He uses a hand from both around Erik's to tip Erik's chiseled chin upward and reconnect their gazes. "I forgive you, Erik. But then again, I never truly blamed you in the first place. You hadn't know what would happen, and neither did I, so there's nothing to forgive."

Erik blinks, his face calming, and he nods deftly. "Thank you, Charles." And he removes his hand and gets up to leave, but not because pausing in front of the doorway to say, "I'm going to make this right."

And then he was gone.


	7. 07: Fresh Regimen

_07. Fresh Regimen. _

It's beyond a week when everyone is beginning to fall into a new regimen with the added members of their makeshift mutant family. And it's within the third week of this built regimen that the little whispers start to go around about the sort of family they make, "parents" included.

The routine of the large household goes something like this:

Charles wakes up, has breakfast with Raven and Hank, sometimes Sean or Erik, while Alex usually has a bowl of cereal or wakes up late and misses breakfast.

Erik jogs every morning around the estate, and always showers afterward.

Hank usually retreats to the lab Charles allowed him to set up, and off and on, Charles will join the young, furry lad to go over details and price calculations for building and running the new Cerebro. They want to extend their family soon, because more and more mutants are going to rise up, and who knows what will become of that.

Raven often works out for an hour or two in the afternoons, and then, there are the classes.

Charles set up a few hours a day where everyone but Erik joins Charles in his study, and they have a sort of miniature schooling session. It's the whole shebang; reading, writing, history, science, and arithmetic. Hank helps with the science and arithmetic bits where Charles isn't as skilled, and there always a special lecture once a week (a five-day week, of course, like any institution) from Charles that deals with mutation. It helps them all understand more about themselves, and Hank is helping Charles elaborate on their own special conditions.

And the there is the downtime in the evening, in and around dinnertime (and Charles insists that, no matter what, they always meet at the dinning table for dinner because they are a small family of six and they need to stick together sometimes).

During this downtime, Raven will impersonate famous people for laughs, turning into an actor or actress, copying their voice, their mannerisms as far as she knows, and gets completely into character to the point where everyone is rolling over laughing.

Hank will do little optical illusions and other tricks he learned while experimenting with one thing or another during his studies, and always amaze and amuse with his more beastly qualities as he becomes more and more comfortable with himself.

Sometimes Alex will crack jokes, some the sort that begin with, "two (insert stereotype here) walk into a bar…" and some he makes up on the spot. Sean will join in, always his partner in crime, and even Erik will laugh, if he's there.

They laugh together, enjoying each others' company in the large, lonely mansion, and after they start to part – some winding down with television or a book or turning in early, they feel complete and content, better off than where they were before.

They train once a week to hone their skills, working for a few hours on Saturdays to see what new techniques or tweaking to their powers they can perform, to gain further control.

And through the regimen, no one mentions the lack of other presences like Angel or some of the other mutants they've already met, and no one mentions any of the deaths they've witnessed like Darwin's, and none of them speak about the whole debacle the rest of America knows as the Cuban Missile Crisis.


	8. 08: Beyond Empathy

_08. Beyond Empathy._

"Professor X, how much do you know when you go into someone's head? I've always wondered, and to be honest, I've feared it a little bit," Alex remarks one evening during the downtime after dinner. He's throwing and catching a baseball into the air to himself while Charles plays chess with Erik. The others are elsewhere.

Charles' mouth makes an odd shape for a moment, twitching between taking a downward turn and half-smiling. He rolls his shoulders and leans backward in his chair. Blowing air out his mouth, he relays slowly, "Well, Alex, it's not something I'm sure I can put into words. I don't _become _the person, obviously, but I do feel what they feel, understand the way they understand because I can see the way they think and can hear what they're thinking, and if I delve deeply enough, I can touch any information I want; memories, names, faces, past thoughts and ideas, and the like."

"Sounds complicated," Alex says with a slight frown, catching the ball and gripping it tightly as he sits up from his lengthwise position on the armchair he's in. "So, like, then… do you know everything about that all at once, even their bad habits and secrets?"

Charles does smile this time. "Ah, no. Of course not. I don't like to invade people's privacy unless strictly necessary, and it's never all at once. Minds are not books, Alex; I cannot simply page through them sequentially and have things laid out for me, and it isn't quite like television, either, where everything is visually clear. In a mind, images and thoughts overlap; scraps of memories and ideas drift in and out like debris in a tide."

"But, if you're in someone's head in a specific moment or something, wouldn't things be clearer because you're perceiving what they are in real time?" Alex wants to know, fully engaged in the idea. "'Cause if you're controlling someone or something, you probably experience what they do, but where do they go?"

"It depends. I do, yes, feel everything way it happens to them in a specific moment, clearer than a memory of a moment, especially since memories are warped and faded over periods of time like a waning dream. And as for what happens when I control someone… They are aware of everything. But depending on the situation, I can fool their minds into thinking that they decided something on their own, reasoning included, or they are aware that they are not in control."

"…Huh," Alex says, nodding. "That's cool. I'd like to be able to convince girls to kiss me." And he laughs.

Charles chuckles lightly. "Yes, I have thought of that myself, but I generally don't like to make people do things they don't wish to do or plan on doing unless it's for a greater, better purpose, like what we did in the CIA."

Alex grins. "You're too polite, Professor. And in a way, I'm glad I don't have your mutation, 'cause I'd probably abuse it. It's almost better than mine is dangerous, 'cause it makes me want to use it less to keep people safe." He yawns. "Anyway, think I'll retire to my room, now. I'm pretty beat. It was training day today."

"Yes; go rest, Alex. I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight!" the telepath replies with a smile.

And Alex smirked a little as he walked away, and Charles couldn't help but catch the phrase falling from Alex's mind, _'Night, Mom, _right as he says aloud, "G'night."


	9. 09: Understanding

_09. Understanding._

"You're awfully quiet, Erik; did that conversation I just had with Alex leave you in a pondering state of mind?" Charles smiles lightly, turning back to their game. From the look of the board, Erik already made his move. Charles thinks it over before moving his knight. He glances upward. "…Erik?"

"…So you felt, then, Shaw's death as clearly as he had?" he whispers darkly, remorsefully.

Charles blinks and leans backward again. "Is that what's making your face so murky? Look, Erik, I understand that you felt the need to do what you did. While I disagree with it because I would rather serve justice with trials and years in prison rather than death, I still _understand."_

He pauses to tilt his head slightly and peer questioningly at his friend, who seems to be in such bitter moods looks reclusive, as if shrinking in on himself, which is very unlike him. Normally he stands so tall, and seems so strong. Tender concern covers Charles' features.

The telepath begins softly, "To answer your question, however: yes, I did feel it as intensely as if it were my own death. I won't go into detail, but I heard his final thoughts, felt his fear, and then all the pain. It was intense, and gave me a lasting headache for the duration of approximately an hour afterward, but if you're about to apologize for it –" a quick scan of Erik's mind shows that he had been just about to mutter another apology for that day "– Then don't. I did not release him even if I knew what was coming because I knew he would have killed you, and I wasn't about to lose you – or anyone – that day."

Erik nods, words lost in his mouth, and he soundlessly takes his next turn.

Charles wins two moves later, Erik's king doing down without much of a fight.


	10. 10: Hooligan Hijinx

_10. Hooligan Hijinx._

"Sean, come on!" Hank growls, chasing Sean around the hallways of the manor, trying to get something back from the teen. "Don't make me tackle you, because I will!"

"Then do it!" the sonic soundwave user laughs as he dodges Raven in one hallway and bolts for the front door. "You need to get out of that laboratory and hang out with us more, Beast! You barely even show up for training practice anymore!" he continues to call over his shoulder.

"That's it; no more Mr. Nice Big Brother," the older teen smirks as he removes his shoes and runs faster than Sean, easily cutting in front of him and blocking his path.

Sean looks over his shoulder one moment, and the next, he's cartoonishly turning his head back only to run directly into Hank's chest. He rebounds and lands on his rear, groaning as he drops the data journal of Hank's newest project (besides the improved Cerebro). "Ow, man! That hurt…"

"You should learn not to tease, _Banshee_," Hank scolds, bending down to snatch up the book and as he stands, he tucks it under his arm. He sighs. "Come on, get up," he says, holding out a hand.

Sean takes it and is lifted back to his feet. He rubs under his nostrils, sniffling as he catches his breath a bit. His freckles wrinkling as he scrunches up his nose. "Sorry, Hank. I just was a little tired of you kinda avoiding all of us. What is with that?"

"I… I have a lot on my plate right now, scientifically speaking," the taller mutant replies vaguely.

"Like what kind of stuff?" Sean wants to know, a frown firmly in place beneath his wild hair.

Hank sighs. "I don't know if I should tell you. It's hard enough keeping it out of my mind when the Professor is nearby…"

"Why, does your recent experiment or whatever have to do with him?" the other asks, cocking his head in curiosity.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Can you keep secrets? At all?"

"Sort of. I can try, anyway. But Prof X _does _read minds," Sean reminds.

Hank debates with himself for a moment or two, and then caves in. "I'm trying to develop a cure for his paralysis. If I can find the right healing formula to give strength and feeling back to his nervous system, and with several months of physical therapy he can do with us as training, I have a good feeling that I can get him walking again, and in time to use Cerebro, after it's built."

Sean's eyes widen and shine. He grins. "W-wow! That would be incredible! – Seriously, Hank, you are some kind of genius. The Professor would be so excited!" His face falls. "But I swear I won't tell him, or think about it much."

"Yes, thank you. I need the secret for now, because if my idea fails, or is impossible to finish, then I would've gotten his hopes up for nothing, and that just isn't fair to him," Hank replies.

"No problem, man. I get that," Sean nods. He zips his lips. "I'll do my best to keep the secret for ya. Just promise me you won't give up on this? I feel so bad that he lost his legs, and it would be awesome if we could get Mommy back on his feet again."

Hank unexpectedly chuckles, deep and hearty, his animalistic face lighting up to nearly completely human again. "Yeah, definitely. I won't give up. I want to make things as easy for him as possible; after all, he took us in, and that means a lot."

"Sure does," Banshee agrees under his breath. He was glad to leave home; he likes it here better.

"Anyway, Sean, no more hijinx, okay? At least not with stuff in my room or lab. I need it."

"Gotcha, Beast!" he shouts, scampering off to do something more productive.


	11. 11: Crescendo

_11. Crescendo._

The crescendo was worse than one of Sean's screams, because Sean wasn't as loud as he was powerful, the sonic waves like a screech without too much sound, because it wasn't like he was a siren going off.

Instead, it was an increase in volume and multitude as Charles tried his best to calm his own mind. His powers were going a little haywire – something they haven't done in years, since he was a lad – and before, he would get headaches from using Cerebro, but he doesn't have that machine at the moment, nor has he touched much of anyone else's minds besides his fellow mutants and a few people's while he was out in public.

And yet his abilities are increasing to a point where he isn't entirely sure how strong his gift truly is, and if it might exceed his own perception of what he can do.

He tries to think of the simple things instead, to drown out the sounds of voices of people who much live miles away, in surrounding neighborhoods, despite the distances Charles thought he had limits to.

The simple things are mostly little comforts: tea, chess, fictional novels, ice cream, Raven's smile, Erik's laugh, Sean's goofy faces, Alex's togetherness with himself, Hank's precision with his work. He thinks of small moments, too; saying goodbye or hello to someone he knows, giving a kiss into Raven's hair, reading from a tome during school sessions and seeing things click and make sense in his students' minds.

In the end, Charles falls asleep, his migraine subsiding while unconsciousness takes over, and the peaceful images and feelings warm him.

Raven comes in to ask him where he's been. She finds him sleeping in his wheelchair, and fetches Erik to lift Charles out, bridal-style, and place him into bed. Raven tucks her brother-figure into bed and places a kiss on his worry-line-smoothed forehead before retreating.

Erik lingers a moment more to wonder, as he gazes down at his friend, what troubled Charles enough to skip their family meal.


	12. 12: Help

**A/N: Seems this is more serious than I intended! But no worries, I have a load of ideas that only take a few moments to figure out which to write first to maintain some order. And then there will be humor and fluff and stuff. XD**

**Thanks for all the review/support thus far! So much more is on the way in this little AU. C;**

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><p><em>12. Help.<em>

"I want to do something for the Professor," Alex interrupts their fourth evening in a row in which Charles doesn't show for dinner, as hard, they're sure, as the man must try to make it. "Something's going on with him, and I feel like we need to do something."

"No, I agree with you, Alex," Hank nods, setting down his fork with a clank and sighing. "I spoke to him yesterday about it, since I was worried. He told me not to pay his absence any mind, and that he's fine, he just keeps getting headaches. I told him to take some painkillers for it, but he said he wouldn't want to numb his brain. I don't blame him; that's his only vice, unlike the rest of us."

Erik clears his throat, and Raven immediately looks over at him. "What do you think, then?" she wants to know, because this hurts her probably more than anyone else. She doesn't like seeing Charles out of sorts.

Erik stands from the table, hands on the edge as his chair slides backward. "It's most likely his telepathy acting up, you know. The rest of us keep improving; did you all think he would remain the same? And after his injury, he must feel trapped in his own mind, and that could have triggered something."

"So what do you suggest?" Sean pipes up, glancing up from his half-eaten plate to stare at the man, daring him with his eyes. Dad always needs to be the person to fix things when they're broken. That's part of the reason why he came back, isn't it? To set things right?

"We take turns lifting the burden from him. I'll start being a teacher for you some of the time, and all spend more time with him to keep his mind off of things," Erik informs them sternly.

"I can massage his head, too, to ease any of the pain, even if I can't help the things he must be picking up," Raven nods. She looks to Erik, who's still standing beside her chair. He looks so… _anxious._

"You know, Hank told us in a lesson once that brains have electromagnetic waves in them. And you can manipulate magnetic stuff, too, because of your mutation, can't you? You are _Magneto, _after all," Sean says, pointing his fork rudely in Erik's general direction.

"…You're suggesting that I can help his powers with mine?" Erik frowns, thinking it over. "I don't know if that would… What if I hurt him again?" He speaks softly, and four pairs of eyes drill holes into him.

"We'll figure it out, and maybe run a few tests," Hank murmurs, starting to return to eating. "Help needs to happen, that's all."

"Yeah, and we'll get help to him soon," Alex puts in firmly. He clenches his jaw and doesn't feel hungry any longer.

"I'm excusing myself," Erik mutters, and before Raven can stop him, he's out the room and down the hall.


	13. 13: For A Visit

_13. For A Visit._

"Riptide didn't want to stick around; said he wanted to go his own way. Which is fine, and I think I'll do the same, but it's strange to be without someone you traveled around with for years," Emma remarks as she converses with Charles.

Erik walks into the room, startled when he sees the carbon-enhanced mutant. "What are you doing here?" he poses.

She blinks her mascara-covered lashes at him and smiles with false sweetness. "Magneto, dear, did you really think I wouldn't stop by for a visit every now and then? Azazel is around here, too; he's outside walking the grounds and chatting it up with Mystique, as a matter of fact. So we're all friendly here, no worries." She narrows her eyes at him. "Although I am still a bit pissed off at you for cracking me. My neck hurts every now and then if I'm not careful in my diamond form, you know. It's taking a while to heal." And she pouts. "You're such a hard-ass, Maggie."

Erik's eye twitches at the feminized version of a nickname for his mutant name.

"Honestly, Erik, you do take things a hair too far at times," Charles agrees with a sigh. "But no matter. Come and sit with us, why don't you? There's plenty of room and tea to go around."

Erik grunts and shakes his head. "No thanks, Charles. I'm busy." And with a fleeting look at the White Queen, he pivots on his heel and storms out again.

Emma turns to Charles and rolls her eyes. "He's always like this, isn't he?"

"Pretty much. But you grow used to it, and in no time, he warms up and is a perfect delight." He raises the creamer, "More cream for your tea?"

"Yes, thank you," she replies.


	14. 14: Jokes, Games, And Songs

_14. Jokes, Games, And Songs._

"So, there are three blondes on a walk. The first blonde spots some tracks on the path and stops and says, 'Look, some deer tracks!' The second blonde shakes her head and says, 'No, you're all wrong. Those are elk tracks; I know the difference.' But then the third blonde says, 'No, no, no! You're both wrong! Those are _moose _tracks. I know my moose, and these are definitely moose tracks.' And they debate and debate and debate, until finally, a train comes by and hits all three of them. What sort of tracks were they really?"

The room erupts in laughter and smiles, Charles and Erik being the two on-looking the scene with more or less amusement on their faces while the younger mutants are gathered in a circle, playing Clue. It was Sean's joke this time, and for the sake of the joke, Raven turns into her blonde, normal-human form and feigns getting hit by a train as Alex barrels into her side.

They collapse into their circle again and continue to play, game pieces moving across the board and guesses being called out, depending on the room the person is in ("I'm going to say… Miss Scarlet in the ballroom with the rope!").

Charles chuckles and shakes his head, turning back from their game as they settle down into playing again. He starts to continue reading his book, but falters after a sentence or two when he can't focus. He sets it aside and looks to Erik instead.

The other man is not as engrossed in his copy of today's paper as he seems, that much Charles can tell. With a brief touch to Erik's mind, he sees that Erik is worrying again.

Charles sighs. "Honestly, my friend, must you keep so much to yourself?"

"Are you reading my mind again, Charles?" Erik says casually, setting down the newspaper and glancing up, his hands folding and resting in his lap.

"Not quite, no. You're just always so quiet when you didn't used to be. In fact, you've been a bit odd since you came back here a few months ago. What's wrong?"

"Am I truly all right here, with all of you? I did so much wrong all in one day, and it's amazing any of you care comfortable with me." He pauses, hesitating. "Particularly you, Charles."

"Didn't I already say that I forgave you? Besides," he adds, "They love and care about you nearly as much as I do. And they _respect _you, Erik. If anything, I've been seeing them warm up to you again and come to accept the past as the past. You should learn to do the same; your past can't haunt you forever, although I don't expect you to simply forget about it."

"I'll try, but that's all that I can promise," Erik responds. He looks at Charles with something deeper in his gaze. "How have your migraines been? You've been showing up for dinner again."

Charles nods. "Ah, yes, I have." He smiles faintly. "They've been much better; thank you for asking. And it's been helping, too, when Raven comes into my room before bed and rubs most of them out, singing to me to clear my head."

"That's sweet of her. Very thoughtful," Erik remarks, and he sounds a tad jealous, and when Charles takes another quick peek, he sees it's because Erik wishes he could help Charles and comfort him in a similar way.

Charles nods slowly, "Yes, it is. But you know, you teaching a few classes for me here and there has done wonders, too," he says, trying to quell the metalbender's doubts in himself. He goes on airily, "Her vocal mimicking talents enable her to sing like anyone, did you know that? Sometimes I don't even need a record player to hear my favorite song, as long as she knows the words herself."

"Truly marvelous," Erik agrees, and they return to reading their respective pieces of writing in a matter of minutes.


	15. 15: Trust Like Metal

_15. Trust Like Metal._

"I still find it curious, Charles, that even for the year we were separated, you didn't worry about making your wheelchair nonmetal, even if I was technically an enemy," Erik comments tensely one morning before class.

"Oh?" Charles inquires, quirking a brow. He looks away again, gathering up some textbooks he bought for the children. "It isn't very curious if you think about it. Most wheelchairs are metal, and it would be odd to build one less sturdy. And aside from that… It's because I trust you, Erik."

"Trust me? Even though –"

"I'll always trust you," Charles answers quickly, cutting off the negative things Charles knows Erik had been about to utter. "So yes, my wheelchair is made of metal, and you could control me in any want you needed to if you truly desired it, but I trust that you wouldn't take advantage of the situation even if we _were _enemies, because above that, we are still friends."

"Charles…" Erik whispers, having been about to say something, but somehow, the words he wanted got lost in translation from mind to mouth, and he finds himself searching Charles' face.

"The kids will be in here soon enough for the first lecture. We can talk about this another time," the graduated professor of the two replies gently.

"Yeah, you're right." Erik pauses, helping collect papers. "But then again, you're always right, aren't you?"


	16. 16: Cure

**A/N: This is my AU, and I'll do whateva whateva I want, and if I want Charles to get his legs back again and if I want him to not lose his hair until a long, long while later, and if I want slash and odd relationships, then that's what I'll write! Bwahahaha~! ;P**

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><p><em>16. Cure.<em>

"Sean!" Hank says, bursting into the younger boy's room in a fit of excitement. "Sean, Sean, wake up!"

"Mmnuh, what?" the teen hums and yawns as he rolls from his stomach to his back, propping himself up on his elbows. "What time is it?"

"Four in the morning," Hank replies sheepishly. "Sorry about that, but I've been up all night working on a formula for healing, rebuilding, and reconnecting cells and nerves by using a serum I made from the natural healing agents in the body, and I finally came up with this!" he says, holding up a tube in the darkness.

Sean rubs his eyes and leans over to click on the lamp on his bedside table. He squints at first, and then the haze clears and his eyes go wide. "F-for the Professor?" he squeaks, and Hank has to clamp a blue hand down on Sean's mouth.

"Shh! Do you want the whole house to hear you?" the scientist frowns. He releases Sean and sits down on his bed. "But it _is _exciting, isn't it?"

"How do you know if it works, though?" Sean asks, and that's when Hank looks like a puppy cowering in the corner, its tail between its legs in shame.

"I… I may or may not have, uh, tested it on myself, like I do a lot of things I create," Hank whispers.

Sean blinks. "…Hank? You d-didn't… You didn't _hurt _yourself, did you?"

Hank swallows. Guiltily, he twitches hands holding the tube and turns over a paw, palm-side up. There is a wide scar cutting across the natural lines and folds of his skin, and it looks as though it's been there for years. "I just… I didn't mean to. I always break things, still getting used to my growing strength, and there was a some glass that shattered, and when I went to pick it up, it cut open my hand. I didn't think; I just reached for the formula and dripped it onto the wound, right into my blood, and hoped that it worked and didn't disfigure me."

"So… It was accidentally-on-purpose?" Sean clarifies softly. "I don't want you to be, like, _intentionally_ hurting yourself, Hank, even if it's for science or the greater good or something," he says, a frown on his face. "That's just… _crazy,_ man."

"I'm well aware," Hank replies just as softly. "And don't worry, it won't be happening again. But, from what I calculated from the aftermath of my own minor injury –"

"Minor? You have a huge scar, dude."

Hank goes on as if Sean hadn't spoken. "–If we gave this to Professor Xavier daily, in increments, and got him to try moving things after a week or so, also doing those in increments, we can build back up to him getting his legs back. It should work. I mean… it _has_ to, right?"

"I sure hope so, man," Sean says while blowing air out his mouth, moving to lie back down. "Because if this is a real cure for his problem, imagine how many other people we could help? And then, maybe, we could show the world that mutants aren't that bad."

"That's a great dream, Sean," Hank agrees with a smile. "Now go back to sleep, okay? I just wanted you to know first since you're the only person who knows about it at all. Goodnight." And he leaves.


	17. 17: Priceless

_17. Priceless._

It's a priceless thing, Erik realizes with a few tears shed only when alone, that science and growing technology and minds like Hank's exist. Because those priceless things lead to bigger, brighter priceless things, like Charles being paralyzed one week, being able to twitch a toe the following week, to a month later when he can go as far as crawl.

It's like watching a miracle in slow-motion. And with each new thing Charles approaches Erik with ("I was able to kick today, Erik! _Kick!_"), tears in his eyes, it makes urges to initiate contact crop up all the more. Erik swallows down relief each time and simply smiles, or goes as far as to _grin_, as everyone in their surrogate family helps Charles slowly but surely get back on his feet again, literally.


	18. 18: Stumble

_18. Stumble._

"Come on, Charles, you can do it," Erik guides, and Raven is on the telepath's other side, acting as his second crutch.

"I don't – know," Charles stutters, tripping over his words as he tries to move his feet, ankles, calves, thighs, and rear in unison, trying to regain control over each and ever tendon and muscle. "I can – can _feel _again, first pressure, then – then heat and coldness, and n-now things like the carpet, but… but I feel so _weak." _And he grunts, falling sideways a bit, into Erik, and dragging the blue girl with him. "Oh – Sorry, Raven."

She laughs as she rights herself. "It's fine, Charles. You're doing fine," she reassures, and she catches what could be a slight flush on Erik's cheeks, burning his ears, but it could be the sunlight heating his face from where it streams thick and warm form the window.

Charles stumbles again, his knees like jelly, and his ankles not very compliant. "Why do my joints seem to not want to function properly?" he grumbles, mentally cursing those parts of his body.

"That cure for your condition isn't guaranteed one-hundred percent, Charles," Erik reminds gently. He nods to Raven over Charles' head, and she nods back, stepping away. "But it could be that you need to push yourself, to remind your body that your legs are find, it's just all the connections from your brain to your spine to your legs that's severed, but mending. So tell your knees to work, and your ankles, too. They'll get the memo eventually."

Charles leans most of his weight onto Erik, Raven hovering nearby just in case, but Charles can feel strength building. Alex comes in, smiling a little, walking up behind Raven and quietly asking about Charles' progress for the day.

"I think he will be walking on his own soon," Raven replies happily. "With a limp at first, maybe, but by Christmas, he should be fine!" And she starts to cry, and she turns to Alex, and he doesn't turn her away. He holds her, hands patting her back, and she smiles and cries into his shirt over his shoulder.

Christmas. Their second together as a full family, it being a little over a year, now, since Erik joined them.

"What a gift that would be," Charles remarks mutedly, tears welling in his own eyes. He turns to Erik, their faces immensely close, and he smiles. "A true Christmas miracle, don't you think?"

Erik has never celebrated Christmas. Not fully, anyhow. They did buy him a menorah to light last year, and it was painful and lovely at the same time, and Charles has felt it along with him. And in this moment, Charles must be projecting without being fully aware of it, because Erik can feel Charles' own hope along with him.


	19. 19: Cerebro

_19. Cerebro._

They buy him a real set of crutches, as well as a cane, for later. His right leg seems to be healing and reconnecting quicker than his left, and it's just as well, because his right leg always had been his leading leg in steps.

Charles hires men who won't care what they're building as long as they get paid, and with their help, an elevator is installed anyway, despite his lack of wheelchair, and the men also construct a circular room with an extending walkway that leads to the center of the sphere.

The new Cerebro.

Metal panels of a certain variety will be used, and Erik is the one who helps install and weld them, his powers being of the utmost use. Hank fashions a newer version of the old headset, and he the sets up the controls in a simpler form.

The doorway they leave like the others for the time being. It had a lock on it, however, so that Charles may focus whenever he's inside.

It isn't up and running yet, but one evening as Erik is arranging some things inside the metal ball of a room, Charles comes hopping in on his crutches, taking a step or two with one leg here and there, stumbling and wobbling, but still on his feet.

"How are things coming along?" he asks.

Erik nods curtly. "Should be up and running in a few weeks." He turns, smiling. "As will you be."

"Oh, I don't know about _running, _exactly," Charles chuckles, setting aside a crutch and using one as a cane. "But look: I can mostly walk on my own, now, if I don't overly exert myself. But I think Hank might need to increase the dose soon, because I don't feel much other progress. I could be building up immunity to the treatment. That can happen, can't it?"

"With any medication it can," Erik frowns, worry lines evident on his face. He places his hand on Charles' sturdier shoulder, where he's leaning his weight on one leg, his right. "But even if you regress, we'll be here to get you back again, Charles. Mark my words, I'll make sure of it."

Erik's hand is a little heavy for the telepath's unsteady state, but it feels warm and nearly like its own version of home, and he relaxes into it, his shoulders slumping, the tension gone. Then Charles smirks. "See, I knew I could always count on you, Erik."

Outside the door, Raven smiles to herself before walking away. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, and she's sure Charles was aware of her presence, but she doesn't mind if they know that she's onto them. It's not like it's a big secret; they _are _pretty obvious about one another.


	20. 20: Giving Thanks

_20. Giving Thanks._

On Thanksgiving, Emma and Azazel turn up at Charles' door, claiming they don't have anywhere to go, really, and they liked it last year, so why not be here again?

A light, dusty snowfall is clouding the chilly November air, and Charles is only using a cane to walk, his daily dosage of Hank's cure (which they keep having to re-supply for ingredients, but it isn't too much of a cost; no more than any normal prescription drug, anyhow) up to double, but still doable.

"Hey! It's so good to see you. Come in, come in; food should be on the table in an hour, when the turkey will be done. Shall I take your coat?"

"Up and walking, Xavier? That's wonderful!" Emma laughs, the tone high, like clinking crystals on a chandelier. "When I last visited, you were still trying to fidget your toes in your chair."

"A lot has happened these past three or four months; I don't even have the time any longer; it just feels like one large blur. But a happy blur, not without struggle, but still happy," the male telepath replies, smiling. Azazel congratulates him, and soon, Raven is running up, a blur of peach and yellow, and she's grinning.

"Emma, Azazel! You're both here!" she cries, leaping into Azazel's arms first, hugging him, and then turning to Emma and giving her a kiss on the cheek, then a hug as well. Pulling away, she shifts out of her blonde self into her regular blue self. "I was afraid you were someone else. Every time someone answers the door, I have to make sure I'm not seen like this."

"Who else would come here on Thanksgiving, though?" Emma remarks with a frown, tilting her head.

Charles exhales loudly, not quite a sigh, but close. "Ah, well, see, what would be _my _fault. I asked Sean's parents if they would like to join us. And they agreed, since he's only visited them a few times over the summer, and they miss him, even though he feels like they don't know him any longer."

"And that's where you come in, eh?" Azazel adds with a rough laugh. Raven giggles along with him and drapes her arm over Charles' shoulder.

"That's Charles for you: always the peacemaker. But that's something to be thankful for, isn't it? Someone who can keep the peace?" the impersonator mutant says, dropping in her own two cents.

Emma tinkles another laugh. "Definitely something to be thankful for. But do you know what I would be thankful for right about now? A glass of white wine. Charles?"

"Right this way, miss," the host replies, trying to turn and sweep a step in the kitchen's direction, but winds up hopping it as he limps with his cane. But he's walking, and that's truly something miraculous to Emma, so she follows along behind, Azazel and Raven catching up with one another as they follow along behind her.


	21. 21: Apron

_21. Apron._

In the kitchen, Charles pours Emma a glass of a white Zinfandel, and she hums at the delectable taste as she goes to join the others. Charles stays behind, in the kitchen, and slips on his cooking apron to protect his clothes, the apron itself being goldenrod and a hair frilly, and was given to him as a joke from the kids on Mother's Day this year. He had snorted and blushed at the time, saying they were all juvenile but thoughtful, and he does wind up using it, because it comes in handy.

He moves about the room as carefully as he can. He assembles the finishing touches on the mashed potatoes, he retrieves the rolls from the rack in the oven, and then bastes the turkey one more time where it rests atop the stove, keeping warm and staying juicy.

He's turning off the heat on the broccoli when a voice cuts through the silence (oddly quiet, since Charles is purposely blocking the use of his abilities). "You know, they never did get anything for me for Father's Day."

Charles shouts, spins around on his cane, and holds a hand to his heart. "For Chrissake, Erik, you startled me!" and he laughs breathlessly. "But you know, I assume they didn't want to embarrass you by doing that. They were only joking with me, and you aren't known for a sense of humor for something such as that. Plus, if they had done so, it would have insinuated…"

"…That you and I are like a married couple?" Erik smirks as he comes up near Charles and casually dips a finger into the potatoes to take a taste. "Mm. Well done, Charles. But a little more salt or white pepper would help balance out the garlic."

The telepath shrugs, turning back to his task of buttering and salting the broccoli. "Then add it yourself, if you're the expert. I have other things to attend to." And he's glad he isn't facing Erik any longer, because he feels like a foolish schoolboy for blushing minutely over the concept of being… what? Erik's housewife? Ridiculous. And humiliating. And sadly, something he's caught in one or two minds of the younger mutants in his home from time to time.

While Charles' back is turned, Erik sizes the other man up with his eyes without thinking about it. It's an unconscious act, almost, to take in Charles' frame, still lithe despite being in a wheelchair for nearly two years.

And Erik must admit, that apron suits the slightly younger man quite well. His eyes fall to the knot, a messy bow, around the lower-middle of Charles' back, right above his ass. Erik's eyes dart away. Yup, the apron definitely suits the telepath in an odd way.


	22. 22: The Last Supper

_22. The Last Supper._

Sean's parents are very stern people.

It explains some of his behavior, and readiness to be a part of Division X at the CIA and now, part of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, as they're now calling it.

"This school is very... homey," Sean's mother says oddly, her tone high and tight.

"That's because it used to be a mansion, one Charles and I grew up in," Raven offers, her face forcing a smile on her human-seeming features. Hank is nowhere to be seen because he couldn't disguise himself, and would rather not these two people freak out and leave in a huff. "But we converted some of the wings into boarding rooms, and other rooms into classrooms. It's like a prep school, now."

"But this _is _a prep school, isn't it? _Gifted children_? Sean had never seemed bright enough for such a place, but if you thought so…" Sean's father says also oddly, his own tone low and full of tension.

Erik is on edge. He can't stand these people; he can already see why Sean likes it here, with his makeshift family, so much better. His own parents are the sorts of humans that will never accept mutants, even their own son, because they like things normal and in its place. He presses too hard on his knife, and the metal gives way under his touch, leaving dents where his fingers are. No one notices, so he tucks the knife away and clears his throat.

"You son is very gifted, indeed," Erik says before Charles can put anything in. Charles sends him a warning look, and his face turns into one of fear when he flickers across Erik's mind and sees what he's up to.

_Erik, no! I don't want to ruin things with these people; they are Sean's parents!_

_No, Charles. We're his parents now. We give a shit about him, and they don't. I can tell. And I'm going to test them right here and now; and if they fail, they're out of Banshee's life, good riddances, the both of them._

Charles has nothing to say. He retreats, eyes falling to his plate as he raises a bite of mashed potato to his mouth.

Erik goes on, "He's so gifted, in fact, that he can send out sonic waves from his mouth. Did you know that about him?"

Sean's mother looks shocked and appalled. "What on Earth are you talking about?"

Sean seems to grow small and unimportant in his chair, and beside him, Alex lends a comforting hand under the table to give poor Sean a squeeze on the knee. He retracts his hand and adds, "Yeah, and I can fire lasers from my body. Cool, huh? Definitely something to be thankful for on this day. I wouldn't be alive without it, probably."

"What are all of you – Is this some kind of _joke_?" erupts Sean's father, and now the poor freckled boy is as low in his seat as possible.

"May I be excused?" Banshee mumbles, but no one hears him, or if they do, they choose to ignore the request.

"No joke," Emma cuts in. She feels empty on her left where Azazel should be. He, too, is hiding, most likely conversing with Hank somewhere, having their own meal away from the annoying humans. She almost envies them. "And if you want to finish dinner, you'll accept it and move on."

"Accept _what_?" yells Sean's father, frustrated beyond reason over the confusing, scattered conversation. Charles winces at the feeling.

"Accept that your son is a mutant," Erik states flatly, his expression dead serious.

Silence befalls the table.

And ten minutes later, Sean's parents are diving home, feeling angry and hurt and disgusted, Sean has his head in Erik's sweater, weeping, his back being rubbed in soothing ovals as Erik shushes him, and Hank and Azazel are teleported down as soon as Emma sends them a message as to what happened.

"Don't cry, Banshee. We're going to be much better parents for you anyhow. We accept you precisely how you are naturally, without suppression."

Raven is by his side soon enough, striking his hair as he calms down, and when his face is blotchy and pink, Sean sniffles and smiles, and there is something heartbreaking about a teenage boy being in such distress. "Thanks, guys. I think that was meant to happen. It was bound to anyway, at some point. I'm just glad I don't have to keep secrets from them anymore."

"Atta boy, Seany," Alex says cheerfully, bringing the other boy into a loose headlock and ruffling his hair with a gentle noogie.

And Sean laughs, feeling like this is the both the best and worst Thanksgiving of his life.


	23. 23: Massage

**A/N: Longest one yet - it's technically oneshot-length because it's over 1,000 words, and drabbles are meant to be under 1,000 - and it's entirely (non-explicit) slash. ENJOY. :3**

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><p><em>23. Massage.<em>

"That was very bold of you at dinner, Erik. And on a holiday, no less!" Charles says, but he is neither scolding nor smiling, he is simply in a bit of awe.

"Was it really such a big deal? In my opinion, Charles, they were awful parents, and Sean deserves better, so I did what was necessary. And yes, bold it may have been, it relieved him. Did you see his face?" Erik remarks as he follows Charles into Charles' bedroom.

Charles drops down onto his bed and sets his cane aside. Soon, he thinks hopefully, he won't need it at all, and Cerebro II (they decided to name it that, since it isn't quite like the original) will be fully operational, and perhaps all by New Year's.

Charles rubs feeling into his legs, which occasionally tingle or fall asleep due tot the reworking of the nerve signals and all of his use of them after non-use of them for so long. He replies, "I did see his face, Erik. And I checked on him mentally, to make sure he was truly all right. He is. And Sean is also very grateful to you. He even thought, 'More of a father than mine ever was. Mine would've never stood up for me like that in front of strangers.'"

Erik feels warmth in his chest. He steps closer, but Charles doesn't take notice; he's too intent on massaging his legs, bending over them from where he leans on his bed to stretch them out. "I'm glad I could help him. I don't often get to help people," Erik admits lowly, as if he doesn't want to be heard for saying such a thing. He looks at the telepath, eyes following Charles' ministrations on his legs. "Speaking of which… would you like me to help you?"

Charles glances up, startled, when Erik is suddenly kneeling before him, bent over one of his legs, his hands gripping Charles' socked foot. "Uh…" Charles stutters, not used to the attention, and especially not the physical contact, from his closest friend. "Sure, if you like," he nods, and scoots back further on his bed to give Erik better access and permit him to sit on the bed instead of kneel on one knee like a man about to be knighted.

(And no, of course Charles was not thinking in the back of his mind also how provocative that position might look to someone who might happen to walk in, no, of course not…)

Erik wordlessly takes one of Charles' feet into his lap where he sits at the edge of the bed, and Charles is leaning back on his palms into the pillows. He nibbles on his bottom lip and keeps glancing around the room and then back to Erik. This feels… good, obviously, because some of the strain is receding from his aching ankles and feet, but it also feels bizarre, because… Well, Charles wonders, do normal adult male friends do this for one another? He doubted it. Athletes, perhaps, might massage one another's shoulders or something, but this…

Erik works from Charles' ankles to his toes and back again, running knuckles over the arch and grinding his thumbs with just the right pressure in the right places. Then he takes the other foot and does the same thing, making sure to keep skin contact at a minimum by leaving on Charles' socks.

But then, daringly, Erik drops Charles' feet and asks, "Do your legs ache, too?"

"A bit," Charles confesses. "I didn't want to complain, but even with Hank's cure, I sometimes lose feeling or only feel pain shooting down my legs."

"Then let me massage them as well," Erik says calmly, and his face gives nothing away; not even his eyes belie something beyond a need to be helpful.

"Oh… All right," Charles agrees. He lies down and rolls onto his stomach, legs outstretched, and they feel tingly already, the painful sort that is like pins and needles dashing the center of the backs of his thighs, running to corrupt the backs of his knees, and then down to the base of his calves, although his ankles and feet are fine, now.

It startles Charles the second Erik's hands touch his slacks the amount of warmth in those hands, and the strength of them. Erik always has stronger hands than Charles, but then again, Erik uses his hands more to bend metal than Charles uses his own at all.

He zips up and down Charles' calves, thumbs together, knuckles flat, as he presses into the muscle and feeling for the tendons, and like a metal conducting electricity, he can almost feel the web of nerves, like something in a dream being just out of reach.

He alternated between pressing points with his thumbs, left-right, left-right, as he travels up Charles' legs. He rubs circles into the telepath's knees, and then he rubs along the backs of the man's thighs, pressing in until Charles jerks and cries out, a knot hit, most likely part of his sciatic nerve.

"Here, I'll get that," Erik mumbles, rubbing again, repeating the sliding motion from knee to base, feeling Charles tremble lightly, pain most likely running through his body. And Erik wishes for tall that pain to go away, so he repeats the entire process on the other leg, and he keeps rubbing both of them out until Charles is lax and calm on the bed, almost sleep-like. "There. Done?"

"Mmhmm," Charles hums. He lifts his head and glances at his friend out of the corner of his eye. "Thank you, Erik. That helped a great deal. Had I had that sort of physical therapy at least once a week for the past few months… well, who knows? I might be walking without a limp by now."

"If that's the case," the metalbender replies, "Then I'll do that for you every night until you can walk normally. I want you to heal, Charles. I want to undo what I did to you, and thank God that Hank wanted to heal you as well, or else this wouldn't even be _possible."_

Charles nods softly and raises himself on his elbows, but he doesn't dare turn over, because he doesn't want to reveal quite how greatly Erik's touch on him, particularly so high up on his thighs, had affected him. "I know, Erik, I know. And now you've done your part, and I can't thank you enough."

"You shouldn't _thank _me, because it isn't enough," Erik snaps lowly, looking pained. Charles' eyes search his, and he is desperately tempted to pry into Erik mind even for a second, but he chooses not to. He isn't sure what he will find, and that scares him.

So, instead, Charles replies, "You know, I also have a headache." It isn't a lie. All the pain is gone from his lower limbs, but there is still a nagging pain in his head. "I have since dinner began because I couldn't yield the strong thoughts and feelings coming from Sean's parents. It would help me sleep if you…"

Erik smiles gently. "Understood, Charles. Here, I'll leave for a moment, and you can get ready for bed. Call me back inside when you need me."

And Charles winds up doing precisely that.


	24. 24: Bitter and Sour

_24._ _Bitter and Sour._

"Why do you keep resisting trying to soothe his headaches with your powers?" Raven wants to know as she tags along behind Erik in the hall, on the way to class on Charles' study. "We tested it when Alex had a minor headache, and it worked; he hadn't hurt him, and I'm sure it's be even more beneficial for Charles. So why don't you try?"

"Because, Mystique," he retorts, choosing to call her by her chosen mutant name, "I would hate for it to somehow worsen or enhance his powers, which are both awful in their own ways. Alex isn't a telepath. He mind isn't as fragile or complex."

"Okay, that's true, but you could at least try –"

And then the conversation drops like the bloodied coin from the back of Shaw's skull. The awkward silence that follows the two as they walk into Charles' study where everyone else is waiting is just as bitter and sour in Erik's mouth as his revenge had been.


	25. 25: Movies

_25. Movies._

There is somewhat of a snowstorm raging on outside in early December, so the group decide to have a "snow day" off of their schooling and or any training. In place of that, Charles and Raven make homemade hot chocolate with some marshmallows leftover from the sweet potatoes from Thanksgiving a week or so ago for everyone, and they find a channel on the television and all watch a string of movies.

Charles and Erik wind up sitting particularly close together, crowded on one end of the couch. Raven leans into Charles' other side, Alex's head in her lap on a pillow, and Sean sitting with Alex's legs in his lap. Raven idly plays with Alex's wheat-blond locks, and Hank curls up in front of all of them on the couch, Sean's foot idly petting Hank's back.

They watch whatever comes on the screen; The Twilight Zone being a favorite, as well as a few other things that come into being, movies in black and white or dim color, all of it engaging and thrilling and perfect with cocoa and the comfort of other warm bodies.

Outside, the storm rages on, covering the fields, trees, and mansion in white. But really, no one pays any of that much mind; They're too content they way they are, as one big family.

"…Hey, anyone up for some popcorn?"


	26. 26: Snow

_26. Snow._

The day following the snowstorm, Charles is awoken by the sound of yelling, as well as the sound of thundering footsteps. He bolts upright in bed, rubs his face, and groggily tosses off his covers and crawls into the floor. He stretches his legs, leaning and reaching in different athletic positions like a track runner, and proceeds to stand, slowly, while hauling himself up with the assistance from his bedside table.

He walks – no cane, but not without some prickles in his legs to his toes – out into the hallway, nearly getting toppled over by Sean.

"Sorry, Mo– I mean, Professor! Gotta get out there before it's no longer perfect packing snow!"

For a group of teenagers and young adults, they all act like children. Excited, they all put on their X-suits, boots, and gloves like snow gear, and charge head-first out the door without hats.

"Wait! You need to cover your heads!" Charles calls after them, stumbling to go down the stairs.

Suddenly Erik is beside him, stabilizing him. "Easy, Charles. We wouldn't want you to fall down a flight and have to resort to a cast before Christmas, now, would we?"

Charles sighs, but is soon smiling. "You're right. Besides, those suits will give them perhaps an hour and a half even with long-johns underneath before they are barreling back in here again, shivering and blue." He frowns. "Well, in Raven's and Hank's cases, blu_er_."

Erik simply laughs, and shuts the font door before turning to Charles and asking, "Would you like me to make us some coffee while we have this peace and quiet to ourselves?"

"Certainly," Charles agrees, shivering a bit and finding the thermostat to turn up the heat in the grand, castle-like house. He Follows Erik into the kitchen and chooses to sit at the breakfast bar while Erik busies himself.

"I think I – No, I definitely see Alex and Sean making snowballs and chucking them at the others. –Why can't they behave?" Charles laments, shutting off his telepathy for a moment to shake his head at them. "I could make them, I suppose, but that wouldn't be right."

While the coffee percolates, Erik leans over the other end of the breakfast bar in front of Charles and shrugs his shoulder with an almost unnoticeable twitch. "Just let them be free for a while, Charles. Even if they start using their gifts instead of snow and shatter a window, we can buy another to replace it." He smirks. "Actually, I can see Banshee using the gliders on his suit to fly and drop snowballs like bombs." He tries not to think of the War. "That seems like something he'd do."

Charles groans and drops his face into his arms on the countertop. "That's precisely what I fear he will do!"

And all Erik can do is laugh, his teeth flashing like a shark. _But at least he's a handsome shark, _Charles adds in his thoughts before mentally slapping himself.

"So… what is it out there, do you think? Two feet of snow?"

"News said it was twenty-five inches. So yes, about two feet."

Charles wrinkles his nose with distaste. "…Damn. Glad we don't need to go anywhere for a while; I would hate to shovel that away to spring the car from its chilly prison."


	27. 27: Christmas With A Hanukkah Twist

_27. Christmas With A Hanukkah Twist._

The yard complete with snow forts, igloos, and footprints from days of play, the first night of Hanukkah rolls around, and everyone is huddling around in a circle as Erik lights the first candle. They skip the tradition of gift-giving since just about everyone else here celebrates Christmas and will get presents then, but they do buy wooden dreidels to spin, something Erik hasn't done since he was a child, pre-Holocaust.

He cries, just a little, and Charles uses a thumb to brush away his tears.

Erik helps everyone put up Christmas decorations as it nears, including everyone partaking in decorating the tree in the foyer (Erik uses his powers to raise the metal start and string the lights), and winding garland around the banisters of the stairs, and putting up sprigs of mistletoe (probably the one Christmas tradition that Erik secretly enjoys the thought of).

They decided on roasted duck for Christmas dinner, since a Christmas ham wouldn't be appropriate with the intermingling of Hanukkah.

They play I Spy on the tree, like their own version of Twenty Questions, to figure out which ornament (each one is unique; Charles' mother had a thing for unique ornaments, and not the decorative ones in sets) is being thought of by the person who chose it. Charles doesn't play because of his powers, and Hank is skilled at guessing, due to scientific process of elimination.

By Christmas Eve, Charles is no longer using his cane, and his limp is almost completely gone. He doesn't tell anyone that it's because he's been taking triple his beginning dose (50 mg to 150 mg), and he doesn't tell anyone that it's also been because of his near-nightly massages from a highly courteous Erik.

On Christmas Eve, half of the menorah is lit, and they all stay up very late, Alex and Sean sneaking about between their bedrooms, using excuses like seeing or talking to one another or going to the bathroom all in attempts to peek downstairs at the tree to see if Charles or Erik slipped the presents down there yet.

In the end, Raven calls them out on acting like five-year-olds and sends them to their rooms in lockdown until they fall asleep. Hank aids her, and then they, too, slip downstairs and casually ask Erik if he needs help with the tree.

He sends them off, and when Charles arrives with brightly colored packages in his arms, Erik smiles and takes a few into his hands, careful to purposely brush hands and arms with the telepath.

And when it's all done, they both return to their respective rooms, and wait for the magical morning to arrive.


	28. 28: Not Giving, Sharing

**A/N: Oops! I was wonering why the numbers suddenly didn't add up! I accidentally omitted the real number 24. I am ammending that as we speak. Sorry!**

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><p><em>28. Not Giving, Sharing.<em>

Christmas morning comes surprisingly late. Tuckered out form the late night beforehand, no one awake until nine thirty, and even then, it's Charles first. He heads downstairs and makes the beginnings of a French toast breakfast casserole, putting the sticky-cinnamony-sweet bready treat into the over to get warm and golden brown and perfect. By the time it's done an hour later, everyone is in the foyer near the fireplace, huddled on couches and armchairs near the tree.

"Stockings first, breakfast second, and then we can open gifts," Charles instructs, and everyone nods, compliant, but clearly eager.

In their stockings, things vary; Raven gets some jewelry, perfume, chocolates, and the like, whereas the teenage boys get things of their personal interests, whatever they may be, like new beakers (that could fit) for Hank, or Sean's favorite licorice in his own.

The casserole is delicious, like one giant slice of French toast with a perfectly custardy center, and with some maple syrup on top, it's like nothing any of them have ever tasted, because it's fresh and sweet and warm and makes them all feel comfortable and calm.

The gifts are just as personalized as the stockings, varying in price and size, but all balancing out to an equal budget for each student, and in the end, there is a lot of hugs and cheek-kisses to Charles – and one or two to Erik, who helped with a few gifts – and a million _thank-you_s.

As they all rush off to consume, put away, or use their Christmas spoils, Alex stops and grins as he notices something. He calls the others back, and Erik and Charles frown in their owns puzzled ways.

Alex points to the entranceway between the foyer and the stairs, where the two men are standing, and when the others behind Alex look, they break out in fits of laughter or embarrassed glances.

"What? What is it?" Erik snaps, folding his arms tightly over his chest.

Charles doesn't even have to look. He can read all of their minds simultaneously, and all of them have one word in common: _mistletoe._

Charles flushes white, then burns pink, and he slowly tips his head back to gaze upward at the offending plant, dried out a bit from a week or so without water or life, and looking ominous.

Erik follows Charles' gaze, and in seconds, he deadpans. "You have got to be kidding me."

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" Sean starts the chant, and the rest follow.

_Mommy and Daddy should have kissed by now anyway,_ Raven thinks to herself, smirking, and no far past the point of jealousy she had over a year ago when she wished she could be with either man. But now they are too much like family, and seem too much into one another that she couldn't think that way if she tried.

Charles sends a glare in his adopted sister's direction, and she looks away with feigned innocence. She realizes that, while Charles generally doesn't read her mind, he must have in that instant.

"No way am I –" Erik begins stubbornly, and it's not because he doesn't want to – because, in all honesty, he's been dying to kiss Charles just _because, _due to something buried in him that he doesn't understand, for a long while now – but because he doesn't want to do it in front of the kids. He doesn't know if he can control himself – control over oneself has always been Charles' forte, not his – and he would hate to scar the younger mutants for life.

The telepath turns to the metalbender, and Erik returns the gaze. He sighs. "Shall we humor them this once, Erik?"

Erik blinks, uncertainty as clear as day on his facial features, but soon he's muttering, "_Fuck it,_" under his breath, biting the bullet, and diving in.

Charles meets the taller man halfway, lifting himself just slightly on his toes – and so incredibly glad that he _can _do that, and doesn't have to watch Erik bend down to wheelchair height – and having their lips meet all at once.

Charles' head swims, and he breathes through his nostrils harshly as he angles his jaw to rub noses with Erik and mold their lips together. Erik can't help but reach up a hand to cup Charles' face, his lips parting for a moment to pant the shortest breath hotly onto Charles' lips, and then mouth again, lips gliding over lips, warm and smooth.

When they part for a full breath, they remember where they are and who is (as well as how many are) standing nearby, and they break apart abruptly, hearts hammering in their chests, and they don't look at one another.

"…Rock on," Sean mutters to Alex, and Alex chokes on a snort of laughter before they both turn away, oddly at ease with the passionate display, even if it was between two men.

Hanks flushes a deep purple on his blue face, and turns and high-tails it back to his lab for no particular reason.

Raven lingers a moment more to say, "Merry Christmas, you two," before grinning and turning, tightening her robe around her lean frame, and heading for her bedroom.

"H-happy Christmas," Charles mumbles, and then he, too, makes his way back to his room.

But not before Erik grabs him by the wrist, yanks him back, and kissing him breathless again, and Charles just knows that their relationship is suddenly a whole lot different, but he can't find it in himself to care.


	29. 29: New Year's

**A/N: I planned out 50 of these. I gave all of the ones following this one titles of their own, and each one is connected to one idea I have or another. They just have yet to be written, LOL. But still... you people get 50 drabbles! Awesome, yeah?**

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><p><em>29. New Year's.<em>

The night stretches on to impossible hours, even after the New Years countdown in Times Square is broadcast over the television. 1966 is here, and across the globe, there's celebration.

Whoever is old enough to drink alcohol – because Charles refuses to permit anyone too young to get drunk – becomes wasted in moments, and soon the Xavier mansion is a household of bubbling laughter, music blasting from the radio, and cheers mixed with spontaneous displays of affection.

Charles leans into Erik with one arm draped around the other man's shoulder. Raven turns to Hank and cuddles up against his side, talking nonsense in her tipsy state, and Sean and Alex opt to arm wrestle. Emma and Azazel are there, laughing it up with the others, sipping their champagne or beer contentedly, chatting with one another and trying to communicate with Charles, who seems a little too giddy.

"Did you two finally get together?" Emma muses, "Because you both aren't hard to read, my telepathy aside."

Erik is torn between growling at her and laughing, so he winds up making an odd noise with an odd facial expression, immediately detaching himself from Charles' side. "I don't know what you're referring to," he slurs, and Charles makes a scoffing sound.

"Don't try to lie, Erik!" Charles calls out, reaching for Erik's side again. He is terribly smashed. "She can probably reads your mind right now, and knowing you, you're thinking of what we did just last night –"

"Charles!" Raven shouts in his direction over the music. She sloppily presses a finger to her lips. "Shh, none of us wanna hear 'bout it!" And then she drops back down, stretching her body out on the couch, her head in Hank's lap. She rolls her eyes and looks up at him. "Honestly, that man."

Hank flushes and laughs. "Yeah, the Professor can't always control himself when he's drunk. But we still love him."

Emma, meanwhile, is amused beyond all Hell, and Azazel is choking on his drink.

It's a good New Year's, overall, and when they say their resolutions at five in the morning, there is nothing but peace between the eight of them.


	30. 30: Ideas

**A/N: Pure slash, this one. Enjoy. ;D**

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><p><em>30. Ideas.<em>

It's still new to them to be comfortable around one another, and it's even more difficult for them to keep away from each other.

It starts off slow; one or two times, that's all, because Erik is timid with physical contact more often than not, but he's getting used to the feeling of being close with Charles, since he already was emotionally and mentally, and, he supposes, it isn't too bad to be physically closer, either. Charles almost… _cherishes _Erik, and while that concept is beyond foreign (not to mention a tad incomprehensible) to the metalbender, that doesn't mean that he does like the idea.

Speaking of ideas…

_You should come see me. _

Erik fights obeying the thought that isn't his being planted into his head. He clears his throat and tries to get back into a book he borrowed from Charles' vast library. _It's late, Charles. Forget it._

_I refuse to 'forget it.' It's been a while since we've played chess. Wouldn't you like to play chess? _The teleptath sends in response.

Erik shifts on his bed. _No. I want to sleep._

_You're lying,_ Charles mentally chuckles into Erik's head. _Or did you forget I would know that?_

Erik growls. _I am two seconds from locating that helmet of mine and drowning you out, I hope you realize._

_I saw the thought pass by, yes. But please, Erik, don't be stubborn. Just come to me,_ Charles says with a mental tone that borderlines seductive. It makes Erik shiver.

…_And if I do? Are we going to play chess, or are you going to initiate other means of entertainment? _Erik remarks testily in his mind.

He can almost feel Charles' smile the way Charles is in his head, leaking some of his own emotions into Erik. And he has to admit, those emotions are tempting in and of themselves. Erik swallows, trying to keep himself in check, but he fails as soon as Charles replies, _Oh, if you like, we can skip the rousing game of chess and skip straight to _– and he fills Erik's head with imagined mental images, ones that look like **incredibly **good ideas.

Licking his lips, Erik is out of his room and down the hall into Charles' in a matter of seconds. Charles is waiting for him, leaning back against his footboard, and he's in his nightclothes, so he's lacking a shirt.

"Hello, Erik," he says breezily.

He doesn't get another word in as Erik closes the distance between them, his lips silencing the shorter man. And, all right, Charles might have planted that action in his head, but it was Erik's choice to go along with it.


	31. 31: Illness

_31. Illness._

"Where's Da- I mean, Lehnsherr?" Alex remarks with a slight frown as he leans back and places his arms around the back of his chair. "Normally he shows up for class."

Charles does a quick search of the house for Erik's mind, but doesn't find him. "…That's odd."

"What is?" Raven asks with evident concern.

"Raven, could you go look for him, please? See if he's in his room? I can't seem to locate him," Charles murmurs lowly, trying to keep the rise of panic in his chest from showing in his voice.

Nodding, the blue girl stands and paces hastily out of the study.

Nodding to Hank, Charles says, "Can you move on to the math and science portion while I join her in search of Erik?"

"Sure, Professor. Anything you need," Hank replies slowly, and he watches from behind his spectacles as Charles marches out of the room, starting to limp as he goes too hard, too fast with his legs down the hall.

He's following Raven through her mind's eye, essentially. And when Raven finds Erik, she immediately turns around and aims to return to the study for class as she leaves it to Charles. They nod as they pass one another in the corridor, Charles sending a quick, "Thank you," in her direction. She smiles.

Erik is in his bedroom, helmet on to keep Charles out of his head, and he's curled up on one side of his bed, sitting on the floor, a trash can in his arms. Charles wrinkles his nose in disgust at the scent of sickness and vomit.

"…Erik?"

"I'm sick," is all the other man can say before he's hacking a cough. "I fucking_ hate_ being sick. Makes me feel weak."

"How did you get ill? Sean was the last one to be, but he merely had a cold –"

"The same illness can affect people in different ways, Charles," Erik grumbles, and he groans as he sets down the can and curls up on the floor. "I feel like shit."

Charles stoops down and strokes Erik's forehead with his thumb, his fingers in the man's hair. "It's all right, Erik. I'll personally see to it that your flu passes in the blink of an eye." He wraps his arms around Erik's shoulders and starts to haul him upward. "Come on, let's get you in bed and get you something that will stay down. And some medicine will help."

"I hate medicine," Erik growls, crawling obediently into bed and feeling childish as Charles tucks the covers around him, propping him up with pillows.

"Well, you're going to have to get your immunity system back up and running somehow, Erik," the telepath scolds, "And medicine will help dwindle the symptoms. I'm going to bring you Ginger Ale – thank God it's one of Alex's favorites, or else we might not have it in the house – and some canned soup. And cold medicine for everything else." He frowns, and reaches over to lift the helmet from Erik's head. "And why were you wearing this, might I ask?"

"Didn't want you to worry about me," Erik mumbles, feeling out of sorts. He scrubs his face with his hands and rubs his eyes; he feels drowsy from hardly sleeping a wink last night. He had been too busy vomiting or feeling nauseous to try to sleep, and his fever-plus-cold-sweat mix didn't help his discomfort all night, either.

Charles looks taken aback. He smiles a little, and tries to crack a joke. "Well, too late, Erik; I already was worried the second you didn't show your face this morning."

Erik grunts, and Charles takes that as his time to leave and retrieve what he said he would.

Hours later, Erik is asleep with his head on Charles' shoulder.

The funny thing about being sick is that all you want is comfort from everyone, but most people are too timid to come near you because they don't want to catch what you have. But for Erik, Charles is willing to make an exception to that circumstance, and choose to instead stick around and nurse his lover back to full health.


	32. 32: Overdose

**A/N: Sorry, guys. This one is pretty angsty. I know this is marked as humor/family, and I swear the next one is much happier (sort of), and the ones to follow will be funny and cute, but for now, this one is... Gah. Well. I couldn't stop myself. D:**

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><p><em>32. Overdose.<em>

To heal himself for good because he's tired of regressing now and then into a limp when he speeds up his pacing into a fast-walk, jog, or run, Charles takes Hank's nervous system cure in a high, high dosage.

He sputters, coughs, and collapses onto the floor as the bitter taste of the liquid nearly burns his throat after taking so much of it.

Now, Charles Xavier is not an irrational person. He knows risks, he often doesn't take them, and he always tries to find the right path to go down.

But that doesn't mean he isn't susceptible to human error, moments of poor judgment, or times of desperation.

His legs sting, his back spasms, and he curls onto his side on the icy tile of the bathroom floor. Icy, he realizes (even though it's mid-spring and the weather is seventy degrees Fahrenheit), because he's becoming feverishly hot, his skin breaking out into a sweat.

He groans, his legs bouncing between stabs of pain and no feeling whatsoever, and then, all at once, he's screaming, and his brain is trying to process everything all at once.

Everyone in the mansion is aware of it at the same time.

Raven is closest; she races into Charles' personal bathroom and throws herself onto the floor by his side, much like how Erik had when the accident initially happened on a beach of what feels like so long ago. She starts to panic, her mind racing. _Oh no Charles what did you do why did you do this where was your head oh my God is he going to die please don't let him die I need him we all need him please Lord no…_

Charles can hear her rushed thought process as clear as if she had spoken it in his ear. He groans again, fist pounding the floor, teeth grinding, and soon, another body is near him. Alex, scrambling to find something disgusting to have Charles smell that will make him throw up all of the medicine in his gut, and help rid him of some of the damage done.

Hank is suddenly there, Sean wide-eyed and terrified behind him, and last of all, Erik, walking in with a stony face, his jaw wired shut, and his knuckles bleach-white as he clenches fists so tight that his dull nails break the skin of his palm and blood squeezes out, and it's the _plip, plip, plip _of the blood dripping languidly onto the tile in front of him paired with its strong iron scent that cause Charles to finally turn away and hurl onto the floor.

The medicine is a tainted color because of Charles' stomach acid, and immediately Hank goes about cleaning it up without a word. Alex and Sean haul Charles to his feet, Raven dabs Charles' forehead with a cool washcloth, and Erik stands and stares, watching it all go on, all the while screaming in his mind, _How could you be so fucking foolish, Charles? _

But Charles is dizzy, his mind in a jumble as he unknowingly picks up everyone's concern and fear and thoughts, and above all else, he can feel the ache in Erik's chest as if it were his own as Erik also thinks in a whisper below the screaming, _I love you so much, so please don't scare me like that._


	33. 33: Fully Recovered

**A/N: More angst, except this one ends well and leads into the future drabbles that should be much happier. Well, 34 is kinda rough, but it also will have a good ending, so after that things will be peachier, hahaha. X3**

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><p><em>33. Fully Recovered.<em>

"That was some stunt you pulled, Charles," Erik remarks tonelessly, his voice guarded. His face is like a brick wall, but Charles can see the underlying distress in Erik's eyes.

Charles exhales slowly. "I know, Erik. I know. And I'm sorry; for once, I can honestly say: I don't know what I was thinking."

"…Are you…?" the metalbender wants to know, his voice quiet and his eyes losing contact with Charles'.

The professor smiles oddly and yanks back the covers to stand. He jumps, does a few kicks, and jogs in a circle around the room. He doesn't even breathe heavily as he stops in front of the other man, who is staring at him with an open expression.

"I'm fine. Fully recovered, in fact. No more limping. In fact, I feel the same as I had from before the incident. I am better than ever, and there's nothing more to worry about. That last kick of Hank's formula was a risky chance to mend the last of my nerves' connection between spinal cord and sciatica and everything else, but now that my muscles are built up again and I absorbed about half the overdose, I'm fine," Charles explains.

Erik looks away again, and nods once, stiffly. "Good. I'm glad. Even though that was stupid of you."

"Stupid? Yes, heh, I very much agree with that. But effective? Quite," Charles replies uncomfortably. He promptly frowns. "Erik, look at me. What are you thinking?"

"Nothing. Rest some more to make sure, and I'll see you later." And he turns to exit through Charles' bedroom door.

"Now wait just a moment, Erik!" Charles calls after the other mutant, and he strides after him and catches him by his sweater. "I think I know what this is truly about."

"…You had better not be in my mind again, Charles, or I swear to God…" and he drifts off, letting his threat speak for itself.

Charles clears his throat and releases Erik's shirt. "I'm not. It's something I have been pondering over for a long while now." He pauses, waits for Erik to either look at him or ask for an elaboration, but all he gets is a harrumph in reply, so he takes that as his signal to continue anyhow. He says strongly (and with a slight tilt upward of his chin) as he looks at Erik's downcast eyes, "You acknowledge my recovery, you're relieved by it, and you acknowledge that I have forgiven you for even needing to recover from what I did. But you refuse to forgive yourself for harming me enough to paralyze, and you blame yourself for my drastic measures."

Erik says nothing. His face looks woeful, now, and he exhales heavily through his nose. He still doesn't look Charles in the eye, but his hands so fold into fists.

"Tell me I'm wrong, Erik. And accuse me of reading your mind if I'm right, I don't care. Just dare to tell me I'm wrong, and I'll let it go," Charles tells the metalbender sternly, practically challenging him with tone and glare alone.

Erik clicks his tongue angrily and finally looks Charles in the eyes. He looks enraged and wounded at the same time, and it's both frightening and compelling. "You aren't wrong, Charles. Are you satisfied, now? Are you quite pleased with yourself for reading me like a book? I hate that about you, you know; I hate that you can see through me like no one else ever has done or will do. Not even my own mother knew me as well as you know me, even since the moment we met, and that scares the shit out of me!"

His voice is low, fierce, and he's shaking. Charles leans away for a moment, about to take a step back, yet in spite of his better judgment, he winds up taking a step forward instead. He lets his features soften, and he places hand on Erik's shoulder, and the other man nearly shoves it off, but Charles tightens his grip, and Erik gives in.

"I'm sorry, then, Erik. But I can't say I regret it. You need someone to break down the barriers you set up for yourself against others; you need someone to come in and ease some of your pain. And I want to be that for you. I don't want you to be afraid, or unhappy, and I want you to forgive yourself," Charles says firmly but tenderly, and leans in, peering upward.

Both of their eyes search the other, and in no time at all, Erik is rushing into the gap between them to crush their open mouths together.

And Charles knows in that instant that things are going to be perfectly all right from now on.


	34. 34: Onslaught

**A/N: Thank the comics and Wikipedia for reminding of them for this one. :0**

**Also: remember all those headaches that Charles was having earlier in this fic that had everyone worried? Well...**

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><p><em>34. Onslaught.<em>

It's one moment, only one, when Charles is using Cerebro II for the first time, that Raven has raw, real, intense fear.

She's _terrified _of Charles in a way she never thought possible.

The new Cerebro has a broader scope; it can see humans and mutants across the entire globe on a scale so massive that it takes every last ounce of Charles' abilities to grasp it and tame it.

But not before she sees it: _Onslaught, _like a violent superhuman that is more powerful that _Professor X, _as if it were its own personality. (Later, a girl named Jean Grey will have a similar psyche, a thing that will be deemed _Phoenix _that is just as powerful, just as rampant, but vastly more evil.)

Raven screams, bolting out of Cerebro (a dangerous thing to do when it is in use) and running into Erik's startled arms where she finds him in the kitchen, about to pour himself a glass of milk.

He drops the gallon, and uses the pipes in the walls of the mansion to levitate his body and zoom to the room as if in flight.

Hank senses something wrong from the data feed connected to Cerebro (similar to the one used to print out names and locations of the people Charles finds and intends to meet), and rushes to shut the machine off.

He does it just as Erik, in another part of the mansion, reaches Charles. The telepath falls limp and unconscious in his arms, and a re-wiring of Cerebro is in order, Raven notes with her hands over her open mouth.

Erik gently taps Charles' face, repeating over and over, "Come back to us, Charles!"

When blue eyes flutter open, blinks, and then his lips part and he asks weakly, "What happened? …Erik?"

And Raven is just glad that Charles is back to normal, and she prays that this never happens again as she watches Erik cradle Charles to his chest and assure him that it was nothing that won't be prevented should it arise again.


	35. 35: By Our Side

_35. By Our Side._

"What am I doing here, Charles?" Erik murmurs on Independence Day while Alex and Sean set off fireworks on the grounds, Hank making sure they have safety first. Raven grins and watches the sparks light and spread across the night sky, and she smiles and leans against Azazel.

Emma, on Charles' other side, turns and cocks her head at the metalbender. "What, you mean besides playing husband?"

Erik shoots her a warning look, but Charles lays his hand on Erik's arm to calm him. Glancing back and forth between them for a second, he looks to Erik in the low lighting and says, "I think what she meant to say was: what do you mean, aside from being here to help me guide and teach other mutants? We already have three on our list to go visit this month, and I could use your help with each one."

"That's not what I meant, even if that's true," Erik murmurs. He looks out at the horizon, to the satellite dish he helped move. He sighs. "I meant… Why am I playing house with all of you when I could be out there, preparing for –"

"If you say 'the war coming with the humans,' I _will _fire a gun at you point-blank, and we'll see if you can deflect it like you said," Charles threatens with a dark tone, and Erik gives a returning scowl.

"Quit being naïve, Charles!" Erik snaps back, and Emma moves to stand between them, mostly facing Erik.

"Now, now, boys; no need to get pissy on July 4th. Watch the fireworks and think of something else, or I'll _force_ you both to think of something else," the White Queen says as if she were speaking to children. "For goodness' sake, don't you two love each other? Can't you put aside your opinions of the world long enough to remember that? I swear, you have the worst possible timing," she adds with a pout, turning away from them. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have yet to mess with Alex tonight. _Ta_."

Charles exhales. "She's right, Erik. I know we may never agree about humans and mutants as far as relationships go, but I think we can agree on this much: our _family's _relationship. We want you by our side, Erik. So please, don't even think about leaving again; I can tell that's where you were headed when you brought up the topic of belonging."

Erik sighs, running his hand through his hair. "You're right, Charles. I'm sorry."

Charles smiles and grabs Erik's hand. "No need to be sorry, Erik. Just… stand by us, all right?"

The other man nods. "I will, I swear it." If only to protect them all, like he said they could on that fateful day on the beach, and like he failed to do more than once in his life: _protect._


	36. 36: Separation

_36. Separation._

Being separated is something that happens to every family at some point or another. There is also expansion, which comes sometime afterward. It's all about people choosing to go about their own lives, trying to make something for themselves that isn't attached to the identity of what their parents established.

Alex Summers knows the separation bit a little too much. He and his younger brother, Scott, were orphaned and set to different foster homes. He hasn't seen Scotty in years, but he misses him more than anything. Sean moves to sit beside the older mutant boy one Saturday afternoon following training during one of Alex's worse days.

"Hey, Havok, what's wrong?" He wants to know. He shakes Alex's shoulder. "You seem out of it."

"Did you know I have a brother?" Alex murmurs, turning to glace at Sean with a hard facial expression. He blinks, and his chest feels heavy. "Someone who's real flesh 'n' blood. We were separated a while back, and I don't know how to find him."

Sean stares at the blond for a moment, and then his face softens and he rubs Alex's back. "It's okay. With Cerebro working better, I think Mom can find him," and he smiles, mainly at the terminology for Professor X, but also for reassurance. "He says that the machine can find humans or mutants, and I bet if he searches, he can find your brother's name somewhere. Come on," he says, nudging the other boy, "Let's go ask him if we can try."

Alex huffs a laugh. "Yeah, okay. Thanks," he offers, and takes Sean's hand as he rises to his feet.

But as they walk inside, they can't go to Xavier straight away, because once they enter the mansion, they find that Raven – insisting that she is truly Mystique, now – is saying that she is going to move out, and that she's ready to try her hand at something more than being cooped up in the mansion.

"I can be anybody I want," she argues, and Charles looks hurt and Erik looks indifferent. "So why shouldn't I try it?"

"Go ahead; see what you can do out there. Just don't come crawling back if you fail," Erik grunts.

"What? No! You belong here, Ra- Mystique. We care about you here," Charles responds adamantly.

"I know that," she replies, softer this time. She moves to take his hand in hers, and she smiles as she transforms into her blonde-haired self. "But there are things I want to see and do, and people I know I'm supposed to meet and relate to, and I'm not going to get that if I stay here."

With a nod, Charles removes his hand and takes a step forward to embrace her. "All right, Mystique. Do as you please; I won't stop you."

"But you could, if you wanted to," she retorts, but it's in a teasing tone as they step out of the brief hug. She grins. "I always know where to find you, anyway, so it's not as thought you won't see me again."

"I know. I know," Charles answers, and in no time, Alex and Sean are hugging her goodbye, Hank is helping her with a few suitcases, and after a hug from him as well, Raven moves to Erik. He looks conflicted, but gives her a tight squeeze, and she tells him that she loves him just as much as he must love her.

And then she is driving off in her car, money in her purse, to try her hand at the world outside, since it isn't very hard for her to blend into it when she needs to.


	37. 37: Storm

**A/N: I'm so sorry if I haven't replied to any of your new reviews, but every time I try to click on the link to reply in my e-mail alert or try to go to the review page, the link says, "Review not found," and then the review page isn't displaying them. And yet I am getting the alerts for it! WTF.**

**One review I wish to address, however:  
>"YUKIDARU: In comic book terms, Alex and Scott are brothers, but that's a different Alex. In this movie, Alex is Scott's father. Different generations, you know."<br>- Dammit! Like, seriously. Shit. I forgot all about that. But... bahh. Whatever. This is AU, and the first three X-Men movies are all messed up in timelines anyway (seriously, look back to X-2 to the scene where Mystique is trying to seduce one of the guards at Erik's cell and drugs his drink. The TV in the background at the bar features Hank McCoy, looking middle-aged and nerdy, but not blue and fuzzy yet, despite what happens in First Class. Among other mistakes), so... since this is an AU... let's just play along and pretend that it's his older brother Alex? kdsnfkajsasdf I DUNNO. Sorry. D:**

**Another reviewer inquired about Onslaught. Um, from my understanding, it's like Charles' psychic equivalent to the Pheonix thing we saw with Jean in the movies. Look it up on Wikipedia under Charles Xavier if you wish to know more. I just thought it would make for some angst, since Erik has plenty and Charles has almost none (besides his paralysis, of course, but I tweaked that). **

**And now you all recieve my own AU version of how Storm enters the group. Again, AU is being stressed here.**

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><p><em>37. Storm.<em>

"There have been reports about uncontrollable, unusual weather lately, and according to what I've been seeing through Cerebro, it's a young girl we need to go find," Charles says. It's in the mid nineteen-seventies, and the Vietnam war is freshly over with. "Her name is Ororo."

"Another child to add to our family, then?" Erik indicates with a slight smile. "And she seems talented, from what I can tell."

Charles nods, and soon, they're assembling the jet – another made and designed by Hank, and after this many years, there is a special place for it below a basketball court they built for the boys – and leaving to find little miss Ororo.

She is a young girl of perhaps nine or ten, and she has snow-white hair – an obvious mutation, since only old women have silver, grey, or white hair. Her eyes turn white and cloudy when her powers get the better of her (at this age changing with her emotions), and her skin is a soft mocha and her eyes a brown so deep they appear black. She is caring and spunky and surprisingly matured in her compassion for others, and when Erik and Charles arrive, she latches onto them as if they were angels here to rescue her.

"Thank you so much for finding me," she cries, clinging to Erik's pant leg, and he realizes that she's small for her age. "No one knows what's wrong with me!"

"Nothing is wrong, child," Erik soothes, stooping down to her level. He peers up at Charles for a moment, finds him smiling warmly, and when Charles gives a small nod, Erik looks back to Ororo and sweeps her bangs from her face. "You're perfect. You just need to learn to control the gift you possess. Charles and I can show you how, and at his school, you can be with other people who have gifts like you do. We're a family there."

"That sounds so nice," she sniffles. She rubs her eyes and looks at him. "I want that. Can I really have it?"

"Of course," Erik says, smiling as gently as his face will allow. He pecks her on the forehead and stands up, taking her hand. Charles is in awe at the display, because it's incredibly rare for Erik to empathize or be tender with anyone, Charles himself included.

"Then let's go home," Charles replies. They walk back to where the jet is landed, and on the flight back, the sun is shining brightly, unlike the storm they had traveled through on the way there. And, the telepath knows, it must be all the little girl's doing.


	38. 38: Great Minds Think Alike

_38. Great Minds (Think Alike)._

"This one is special," Charles murmurs softly. "So that's why you're here. I need you here for speaking with her. She's a telepath like I am, but she also possesses telekinesis. It's extraordinary; I figured it could be possible, since I can perform astral projection and Emma can turn into a living diamond, but it's amazing to know that someone we will meet can do it."

"What's her name, then? We're outside her house. Surely you already know her name?" Erik wants to know.

Charles smiles. "Jean. Jean Grey. She's a young teen at the moment, so we need to do this delicately."

"How young?"

"About fourteen," Charles says swiftly. "So we need to treat her like an equal. She is highly intellectual."

"Duly noted," Erik nods. He gestures toward the house. "Shall we, then?"

They enter after knocking politely, and Jean's parents aren't home. Charles sits across from her, Erik by his side, and she looks at them intently. She looks particularly at Charles, and they make expressions at one another and nod their heads, and Erik looks back and forth between them, assuming that they must be having a mental conversation with one another. He feels entirely left out.

Finally, they break eye contact, and Jean is smiling. She looks to Erik, then back to Charles. "You're right, I needn't be alone anymore. Thank you. Yes, I'll join your school. Wait until my parents come home, and then we can all talk. But I want to go with you, I do. So much." And she starts to cry; single tears trailing down her cheeks from wet eyes, blinking as she smiles and laughs breathlessly. She seems so relieved, enough so that Erik can feel it from where he sits. It washes over him in waves, and it feels so soothing, that pure relief.

She's sent away with them, but she's cheery about it, and on the jet ride home, Erik asks her if she could demonstrate her telekinesis for him.

"Like this?" she says, and she looks over to her suitcase, and from it, a stuffed animal floats over to them after the zipper come undone. She grabs the animal from the air as easily as if she were taking it from someone's hands. She looks at him and smiles.

Erik chuckles, utterly fascinated. "Yes, like that." He pauses to look at Charles from the corner of his eye. Back to her, he mutters, "Utterly fantastic."


	39. 39: Lived

**A/N: Borderline oneshot-length again. XD **

**AND SLASH. Yay~ ;P**

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><p><em>39. Lived.<em>

Their house has grown and shrunk at the same time.

A certain element is lacking without Mystique around, and Hank discovered another job he can have within the government, so he took it. It's 1988, everyone has grown and changed and progressed, and some things aren't quite the same.

Storm (she doesn't wish to be called Ororo very often by very many people) and Jean have become like sisters. They are close and friendly with one another, and they get along well in nearly every situation. They, in a way, have to; after all, there are no other girls in the Xavier household.

But there is a problem: the world is beginning to wake up to the idea and existence of mutants.

Erik is livid about it. He gets into moods upon seeing something on the news, and he goes off on tangents or hides himself away in his room, because he can't stand not doing anything but gathering mutants, most of which he or Charles or both visit, and yet they refuse and reject the offers and proposals because they like their life the way it is, they feel the need to hide their abilities, and they want to belong and stay with their families or keep secrets in general.

And it's hideous and awful, because each event on the news reminds Erik of his childhood. Charles knows all too well the way Erik thinks: the metalbender thinks solely of human cruelty. He thinks of genocide, and how it happened to his people during the Holocaust, so why couldn't it happen to his people (albeit a different form of person) again in this upcoming day and age? If someone like Hitler were to rise up and use minions like Nazis to wipe out the mutants in a similar fashion as was attempted with the Jews…

Well, Erik would hate to think of what would become of their race. It would generally be a waste, because superhuman abilities should be shared and praised and looked upon in high regard, despite how dangerous some abilities may be, because aren't superheroes in comic books looked at the same way? Why not mutant humans as well?

And Erik raises his voice and proclaims all of this, using circumstances from the news or the past as proof of the road all of this will go down eventually.

Storm tries to calm him down. Jean tries to cheer him up. Alex tries to talk him out of it. Sean tries to distract him from it.

Except what it truly takes is a slap in Erik's face and a stony glare from Charles to snap him out of these ranting moods.

"Erik! Look at all that we've gone through: Shaw, the Cuban Missile Crisis, Kennedy's death, Vietnam, Korea, and now the Cold War. Humans have their own problems, and we get dragged into them, but in the end, we always pull through. Human nature is more than just cruelty, Erik! There is empathy and kindness in there as well, because everyone is imperfect, and everyone deserves multiple chances; or did you forget yourself? You're no different than any other human being – _or _mutant – in the world! We all make mistakes, we all try to survive, and we all find solace in one another. Don't be blind to that," the professor shouts, his voice lowering to a murmur by the end of his speech.

Erik could go one of two ways; he could be stubborn and refute each point and walk away, or he can submit, take it as it is, and move on.

He chooses the latter, using society's tolerance and general non-acceptance of homosexuality – _"our own love for one another,_" he reminds bitterly – as an example of how humans will never progress, or they will take too long to do so, and things will be burned and bloody by the time they do. And he stomps off.

Charles is soon entering Erik's room without knocking, his sole warning being a brief message to Erik mentally. Erik is sitting on his bed, arms folded, legs crossed at the ankle, face cloudy with anger, and his helmet over his head. He hardly looks surprised when Charles walks in, even though he already had the helmet on and didn't catch the telepath's warning.

"We've lived a roller-coaster sort of lifetime. I'm not saying any of it was awful, nor am I saying that any of it was amazing. But there were high and low points, happy and sad times, and we're all still here. So why don't you let it go and side with me on this, Erik?" Charles wants to know as he speaks softly and moves slowly. He its on Erik's bed and looks he other man in the eyes.

"You're absolutely right about all of that, Charles. But how can I side with you on something I feel in my gut to be true since I _have _lived through it once already? It might be forty years since I was a child, but still, those things haunt me. I don't want to witness another Holocaust, this time targeted toward my mutant brothers and sisters. Especially when we are so superior; we do things no human could ever dream of being capable of! So why can't we…?"

Charles shakes his head. "I don't believe in superiority, Erik. I believe in conquering challenges. I believe in non-violence as Martin Luther King, Jr., had. And I also believe in you, and your capability to join me in this and help me open the eyes of the world to our kind. We can do it, Erik. Together."

"Oh, my friend," Erik says, face softening as he bows his head to remove the helmet and let Charles back inside. "I should have known there would be no arguing with you." And when he looks up, his eyes are smiling even though his mouth hardly twitches up at the corners. He reaches out a hand, tossing the helmet aside with the other (it rolls and lands on the carpet below with a dull thud).

The telepath takes the proffered hand and is immediately drawn into Erik's chest; firm for a fifty-year-old, since Erik keeps in shape. He has a few grays around his temples, and his eyes crinkles when he smiles. Charles looks younger, since he is by a bit, and he still has his hair, thank God (his father had been balding, he heard a long while ago, and he doesn't wish to go down that route until later on).

Erik holds him, and Charles exhales, relaxing. He hates it when they battle it out with words instead of chess pieces.

"You know I love you," Charles says, muffled by Erik's clothes. He buries his head and hides himself. "And I don't like it when you fight me. I don't want to have to fight back."

"I know," Erik whispers, and he places a kiss atop Charles' head. "So I won't be doing it again." And it's left unsaid that he also loves Charles, but he doesn't need to say it. Charles already knows; after all, they've lived together for a long enough time that it's been impossible not to hear the words spoken in Erik's head from time to time.


	40. 40: Some Sort of Progress

_40. Some Sort Of Progress._

"Professor?"

"Yes, Jean?"

He turns to her from his position near the window, gazing out at the horizon.

"Are you waiting for someone? You always look out the window, and once or twice, I was in your dreams when I couldn't sleep at night, and I see Mr. Lehnsherr often, but I also see people I don't know. A blue girl with red hair, a blonde woman in white, a man with red skin, a younger man with blue fur. Who are they all?"

He pauses, truly looking at her now, and he quirks a brow. He sighs, and when he returns to the window, he points with a hand toward the distance. "Life choices separate and bring people together. It's some sort of progress, meeting new people, but it's also some sort of regress when you lose them, all due to choices they make. You'll meet some or all of them someday; Hank likes to visit, Raven said she would return, and while I can't vouch for Emma or Azazel, I at least know my sister and top scientist."

Jean nods, accepting this. "I look forward to meeting them, then." She glances toward the door. "May we use Cerebro today? I want to see what it's like. I might be using it one day myself, and I want to know how it works."

Charles chuckles. "You're not ready for that, but I don't doubt you have it in you. Your powers, while unstable and your subconscious resistant of them, I believe you could be even more skilled than me one day. But for now, sure; let's go. Just remember that once I activate it, you can't move."

"I know, Professor," she replies with a smile. "I won't." She loops her arms around one of his as they walk together toward the machine's private room.

They find a struggling boy who can't open his eyes, and he becomes the new selection to add to their family.


	41. 41: Eyes

**A/N: Still can't answer reviews! It's the weirdest thing. I swear I'm not ignoring you, it's just... FF.n is messing up again. D:**

**Wow, these chapters are started to get kinda rushed and weird because my ideas are stretching too far. I should have stopped before Storm or Jean, but mehh, oh well. I only have nine more to go, now. Whatever. Enjoy anyway, I suppose...?**

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><p><em>41. Eyes.<em>

Jean decides to tag along with Xavier to find the boy who can't open his eyes. With a little mental tracing, Charles discovers it's because the boy has lasers blast from his pupils uncontrollably.

Running out of the mansion, Alex insists on joining them. He begs, "Please, can I? He's so similar to me. I want to see him." He's pleading and desperate, something churning in his gut.

Charles cocks his head at the younger man, and then nods firmly. "All right, Havok; tag along. I can't say 'no' to a face like that." And he smiles.

"Thanks, Professor X!" Alex grins, and he really isn't a kid anymore, but when he grins like that, there is a sort of youthfulness about him that is charming, warming, and has an air of childish innocence, as if a simple thing like being included gives him utter joy. But Charles knows better; this is a personal, searching sort of thing, because Alex has always wondered what became of his baby brother, and he always wondered, too, if his brother would have laser-like abilities like himself. And if this boy has it…

When they find him, he's holding his hands over his eyes. Charles offers unique sunglasses he designed before meeting the boy that he finds are resilient to infa-red lasers. He puts them on the boy, tells him to open his eyes, and when he does, everything is fine, and finally, the boy can see, something he hasn't been able to do in years.

He is about Jean's age, he is handsome, and he gives his name: "Scott Summers," as soon as Alex hops off the jet and joins them.

The name stops Alex in his tracks, and he stares at the younger boy before taking stumbling steps forward. "…Scott? S-Scott! It's me, it's Alex; do you remember me?"

Scott breathes shallowly in quick huffs, and soon, he's rushing forward, and it's a reunion that brings tears to Jean's eyes and makes Charles smile welcomingly.

Scott comes back with them; he had no reason to stay where he is, and every reason to go. All the family and security and help he's ever wanted or needed is with them, and he knows it.

"Welcome to our family, Scott. You'll like it at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters," Jean says warmly, and Scott blushes and smiles at her.

"Thanks, miss."


	42. 42: You and I

**A/N: This one is like two drabbles in one. Enjoy! ;P**

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><p><em>42. You And I.<em>

"You and I, we work well as a team, huh?" Scott pants tiredly to Jean at the end of a heavy training session.

He loves her. He already knows that he does; he felt that he liked her the second he met her, saw her, and knew he had a friend and ally the second he shared thoughts with her. She was timid about it – usually is when it comes to her powers – but she's everything he's ever wanted in a relationship, in a person, in a woman.

"Yes, we do," she smiles in agreement, also breathless, because it takes a lot of work to act as a team against mechanical foes, all the while controlling one's mutant talents. And they aren't always sure what they're training _for, _aside form honing their abilities for the better, but Erik always insists that they keep it up because they never know when they're going to need it.

Jean is falling for Scott, she knows, but he doesn't want to tell him just yet. She doesn't want to ruin their friendship, their easy and stable companionship, but she wonders if perhaps it would only get stronger if she acted on her feelings.

XxX

"You and I hardly act like how we feel toward one another, don't we, Charles?" Erik brings up one evening. Charles is resting in Erik's lap, a book in hand – _Devil In The White City, _and it's different because it's all non-fiction, despite being written in the style of a fictional novel – and is very engrossed in it, and is content to soak in Erik's warmth and presence.

"Why do you say that, Erik? I think we're affectionate enough. Our relationship is complex besides, and as accepting as they are of things that are different because _they _are different, I doubt the children would feel comfortable if they knew we shared a room or the like."

"Shit, I hate that that's true. There are those who wouldn't let their children join the school if they thought it was being run by two homosexuals," Erik grunts distastefully. "I hate that. We have over thirty mutants in our care, now, all of varying ages and abilities. You would think, with a school as private as this one with intelligent people at its head, they wouldn't care who runs it, as long as their kid gets an education. Plus, to the ones who know their child is a mutant and is glad to be rid of them, you think they would especially not care."

Charles winces at the last bit, but all of it is a little harsh. "Ah, touché. Still, if it bothers you…" Charles marks his place in his book with a mental memorization of the page number, rolls over onto his stomach, and raises himself up on his elbows. "I wouldn't mind acting more like a couple with you. I always thought you wouldn't be open to it, that's all. Because of what we mentioned, but also because…"

"I'm not a very homey person. Yes, I know. I nearly walked and never came back all those years ago, and once or twice, I thought of leaving again for some reason or another. But doesn't it prove a great deal to you that I care enough to stay? That I want you and this life enough to remain in it?"

Charles looks at Erik for a long time, and soon, he's climbing onto his knees on the sofa and pressing a kiss to Erik's mouth. "No, you're absolutely correct. It is proof enough. I'm sorry I didn't realize it sooner."

The metalbender grins deftly. "That's more like it."


	43. 43: Dawning Age

_43. Dawning Age._

After years of only hearing phone calls, Mystique stops by for a visit.

"Charles, I need your help," she's saying softly. "I need to find my son."

Charles is taken aback for more reasons that one. The first being that the mutant-and-proud Mystique is asking for help, and the other being that she _had a child?_

"Oh, ah – All right, Raven. Please, come with me. We'll use Cerebro."

"Thank you," she murmurs. She looks aged, even though her molecules would slow down aging, she seems… tired and regretful and tired of running. "But I haven't been 'Raven' in a long, long time."

XxX

They find him; his patterns are erratic and scattered, but "That's because he's a teleporter, Charles. His father was Azazel," Mystique informs. She doesn't elaborate on what the word 'was' means. Charles doesn't pry into her mind nor ask to find out.

"What's his name?" Charles asks after they have a location the young teleporter has finally stopped.

"Kurt," Mystique says quietly. She shakes her head. "And I'm not staying to see him, Charles. I just wanted you to help him. Find him, and take care of him; you and Magneto both. I'll be around," she says. After a touch to Charles' face, his sister is leaves once again.


	44. 44: Animal

**A/N: Everything is so messed up, and I should have stopped at, like, 20 or 30, right about Christmas and stuff... #sigh# But what cha gonna do? I'm just going to finish this cute-idea-turned-weird and be done with it. XD**

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><p><em>44. Animal.<em>

When they find him, he's the most reluctant yet to join their growing family. Erik and Charles visited him once before, and at the time, he none-too-politely refused ("Go fuck yourself,"). But this time, he's between a rock and a hard place, he's seeking answers, he wants some sort of redemption, and they're the only shot he's got.

His name, he tells them gruffly, is Logan. He doesn't remember much. He only knows that his dog tags say "Wolverine," that he's older than he looks, that he heals extraordinarily quickly, and that three long, sharp, metal claws slide out from the backs of his knuckles when he gets too angry or defensive, or if he wants them to show.

He's rough, rugged, untamed, and animalistic. But he also is a good person, and when he joins the school, becomes part of the family, Jean takes a liking to him, Scott become a sort of friendly rival to him, and Logan himself seems oddly protective of all the students, like another uncle to add to the family.


	45. 45: Turning The Tides

_45. Turning The Tides._

Senator Kelly, William Stryker, various rogue mutants (besides Rogue herself, a southern girl by the former name of Marie who can borrow the powers of others through touch, and is a lovely addition to the Xavier family); they all try to disturb the semi-peace between mutants and mutant awareness and discovery and all the rest of the humans in the world.

The family gets closer, even the children who haven't been there very long yet, or only have a few closer friends among the now fifty-something group of people living within the mansion. They withstand so much, and through it all, it changes everyone bit by bit.

Until Erik decides that they can't take any more of this discrimination, this abuse.

"Charles, it's time we fight back," he tells the other man one night they are lying in the same bed, playing chess with a portable board. "Like all those years ago, we have the resources and trained mutants. It's time to defend ourselves."

"For once I agree with you," the telepath returns quietly. "But we need to do this carefully. We can't rush in, guns blazing, metaphorically speaking. We need to address the right people, be like a supporting and protecting force in the streets. We can't be an army or enemy. We need to make them see that they have nothing to fear, so that they will lower their own defenses."

Erik wants them to be gone entirely so they aren't a problem, but the second he thinks this, Charles sends him a warning look.

"Don't turn into the sort of human you despise, Erik. We can't fight genocide with genocide. We need to be the better men," Charles says so strictly that it sends a shiver down Erik's spine; it's rare for Charles to act this way.

"I never thought of it that way," Erik mutters, looks ashamed of himself as he ducks his head. He swallows hard and deadpans his face. "I don't want to be come what I fucking fear most," he curses lowly, darkly.

Charles places a hand on Erik's shoulder, leaning into him. "I know, Erik, and that's why I'm trying to read with you. We will get through this, and we will turn the tides; this is an ongoing struggle, and we will _not _back down."


	46. 46: X Men

_46. X-Men._

They become known to all as _the X-Men. _A force to be reckoned with, seen as at first an enemy, and then something to be feared, then something to consider, and hopefully, someday, something seen as what grew to help shape the world.

Not everyone in the mansion is part of this core group. But those who are include: Charles and Erik at the head, the leaders, Professor X and Magneto; Wolverine, Jean Grey, Cyclops (the name Scott gave himself), Havok, Banshee, Nightcrawler (Kurt's given name), Storm, Beast (he came back to help after the government felt they couldn't trust him any longer), Rogue, and a boy named Bobby whom they call Iceman.

They learn to work with one another, by each other's sides, watching one another's backs. They strive constantly for something better, and they constantly reach out to fellow mutants, offering them the chance to take a stand and choose and side if they so wish to.

Erik smirks. "I must admit, Charles, I am rather proud of our little X-Men." He frowns a bit, a sad expression in his eyes. "Do you think Mystique will ever return to us?"

"I'm sure she will, especially if this supposed war starts." Charles sighs and rubs his forehead. "I wish it wouldn't come down to a war. Humanity has seen so many in the past hundred years alone, not to mention throughout history. All I want is peace."

Erik, oddly calm and forever resolute, tells the telepath with a firm tone: "I said it once and I will say it again, Charles: peace was never an option, and as long as humankind walks this Earth in any form, mutant or not, I am afraid that peace – the way you envision it – will _never_ be an option." He grips Charles' hand tightly. "But there is still us, the X-Men, who will be the deciding force in how close to peace humanity comes, at least for itself. This is a civil war, goddammit, and it's not going to end unless we stop it."


	47. 47: War

**A/N: I DON'T KNOW IF ANY OF YOU HAVE NOTICED, but I long since changed the genres from humor/family to supernatural/family, because yes, there is some humor in this, but there is also some romance and a LOT more angst/drama than I anticipated originally, so I just broadened the genres by quite a bit.**

**This one is painful. I apologize in advance. I felt awful while writing it. And please, imagine something intense like the third movie, but without the awfulness of the rest of it.**

**I can finally reply to reviews again! So expect a little something in return for your efforts - wow, over 100, guys! I love you all so much! - even if all I wind up saying is a quick, "thank you!"**

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><p><em>47. War.<em>

Alex reaches out for Scott's hand, tears in his eyes, and Scott's brows turned inward with distress and dread.

Jean grabs hold of Storm before she plummets into the water, too terrified to remember to lift herself, and the telekinesis user strains, hands shaky, to bring the other woman back to solid ground.

Rogue runs, trying not to weep, trying to get out of the way as blasts go off behind her, and she doesn't want to turn around and see who or what is firing, aiming to end her life.

Wolverine growls loudly, snarling like a feral mountain lion as he charges a group of men – humans, with machine guns made of plastic to battle against Magneto – and slits their throats, blood gushing like a geyser as their heart pumps out the last few beats of their lives.

This turned so ugly, so incredibly fast.

Nightcrawler, in a panic, teleports left and right and above, grabbing Rogue, saving her from a falling metal cable, and the bridge wobbles under their feet, cement cracking. New York had never looked so far away, nor so dark.

"Alex!" Scott screams, and he tries to blast away another falling cable line – cut loose from a stray bullet or blast, it doesn't even matter, because it's _falling, _and _rapidly_ – but it whips about from the laser, even when he tried to set the dial to a decent concentration, and it cuts Alex across the stomach. "NO!"

Jean turns, Storm panting by the redhead's side, gathering her bearings, and all Jean can do is stare in horror as Scott races forward toward his older brother, scrambling to put pressure on the gash with his hands, thick, hot, crimson liquid staining his fingers through his X-suit gloves.

Amidst it all, Banshee screams and glides, trying to knock back an oncoming wave of soldiers trying to run the mutants from the bridge, from the state, from the country, and into the ocean, to die off, to drown.

They shoot holes into Sean's suit, the exact flaps he needs to cruise on the air currents made from propelling himself upward with sonic waves. He plummets to the ground, hard and fast. He's dead the second his body meets the pavement with a sickening crunch.

Hank is right near him when he dies, and he barely gets a chance to move before he hears that crunch, and it breaks the beast's heart. He can literally feel a part of him die, all because he just saw someone he has known for years, someone he has grown with, someone who has been part of his _family _get lost in the casualties of (civil) war.

With a roar, the scientist becomes a blur of blue as he barrels into the men who shot Banshee down. He doesn't hesitate to give over to his animal instincts and break their necks as Sean's spine had done.

Charles doesn't show it on the outside, but on the inside, he is aching and stinging and burning with terror and pain and rage and sorrow. He wants to cry, he wants to freeze every last mind and will them to stop, but his head is pounding from his racing heart. He can feel each and every wound, every shuddering breath, every electric signal of adrenaline, every last death and thought.

It's overwhelming and confusing and conflicting; Erik is by his side, fending off attacks, protecting Charles with his life, and it wounds Charles a little more to know that he is safe, but everyone else isn't, because no one else has Erik fighting for them.

Magneto is ruthless. He picks up men from any shred of metal they have, including the tiny particles of iron and other metals found in the blood, tissue, and air of a person. Even their electromagnetic brainwaves; whatever he can control, he uses to fling men off the sides of the bridge and into the bracing, filthy water below. His control and extent of ability has surpassed even what Charles thought possible. It's frightening in and of itself.

But what more frightening is knowing that Alex is about to die, and that they are losing this war, even as mutants off the streets are beginning to come from behind the soldiers and attack with anything they have, all to preserve some way of life or carry out some belief or another.

Charles can feel them _all, _every last _one, _touching their minds and dually their hearts as he sends mixed messages, asking them to help, asking them to leave, among other things. It's like being attached to Cerebro but on a much smaller and more personal scale. It gives Charles chills, and makes the pain weigh even heavier down on his heart.

The professor warns people of surprise attacks and shots as often as he can, telling Jean to dive to the right from a soldier aiming at her, an action he sees from that very same soldier's mind.

A mutant with broad, white bird wings flies overhead, diving down to save a life when he can, but his morals are too high to fight.

Alex touches his brother's face before his eyes go dull and Charles can feel the sinking, icy emptiness of death come from Alex's mind, and then nothing at all. The telepath's heart breaks right along with Cyclops'.

"Jean!" Scott says brokenly, and she has to pull his hysteric self away from the body. She wraps her arms around him in comfort, muffling his sobs, as Storm guards them and sends tornadoes down on the army before them, hoping she won't get a mutant caught up in the unnaturally formed natural disaster.

"Charles, there are too many! You need to do something! Crush their minds, freeze them all, _anything!_"

"I _can't!_" the telepath hurls back over the sound of gunshot. He wants to cry, he wants to cry, but he needs to stay strong and calm, like he's always been. "We need to stop killing them if they're ever going to listen to us, every going to accept us as one of them, merely different, as different as any normal human genetic mutation or evolution, like walking on two legs or having chocolate-colored skin or auburn hair or mismatched eyes –!"

"_Charles_!" Magneto hisses, both leaping out of the way of a flung abandoned vehicle and using his metal-controlling gift to make his body zoom to the telepath's chair, pulling himself to the other man, bring them crashing together. He grips the X in the center of one wheel, and pants heavily. He hauls himself to his feet, and he bends over to look a stunned Charles in the eyes. "Calm. Your. Mind."

Charles blinks. This is his phrase. He knows how to do this well.

He meditates hastily, clearing his mind and exhaling shakily, but it's a lengthy breath, and that helps. He opens his eyes again, and everything is paused. No one moves. Explosions finish going off, and the bridge still shakes, but otherwise, it's as if time has stopped. It's oddly quiet, and the night above them is oddly clear, save fro the smoke wafting in the late summer air.

"You need to choose, Charles. Now or never. Either prove we are truly the force to be reckoned with that they predicted, or we surrender." He pauses to scowl. "And you _know _how I feel about surrender," Erik adds coldly. "Now then, Charles: choose. Us, your family, some of which are already dead or wounded, or them, the cruel and close-minded human race."

More cables fall, and if there were ever a moment of risk and wasted precious time, this would be it. Charles can almost count the seconds longer the entire bridge will last, at least at this portion of it, over halfway across the bridge and toward the island.

Erik's eyes search Charles' eyes, and the tension is so tangible Charles can taste it, sour and musky, on his tongue, rancid like sewer water.

"Family," he whispers. "I choose our family. They are more valuable to me than a million people."

Erik nods in confirmation. This is all he needs. "Right, then. Send a message to Jean and Kurt, and unfreeze them. Jean will levitate us all and gather us up, the dead included. Kurt will teleport us out, bit by bit, until we're home. We will regroup, reevaluate, bury our dead, treat our wounded, and establish a plan."

For once, Erik is the voice of reason instead of the brash force. His idea is elaborate and Charles can feel the edge of a scheme somewhere in the 'plan' bit, but he ignores it for now and does as instructed.

"Fellow mutants who came to aid us: please, return to your homes now. Leave, before the soldiers awaken!" Magneto calls out strongly, and the scattered folk turn and run.

Some of them weren't mutant, however. Charles felt them: humans who were fighting for mutant rights just as much as the next mutant would. Humans off of the street, mere civilians, aiding what others consider the "enemy." And that, Charles believes in the back of his mind and in the pit of his stomach, is truly _something._

Jean, for once, doesn't doubt her level of power, and doesn't resist it. She uses her strength to carry everyone. Nightcrawler, for once, doesn't doubt his own level of power, and he tries to trust it. He envisions the mansion, miles and miles away even as it is, and prays briefly as everyone touches one another, some crying, Scott cradling his too peaceful-looking, too-limp brother in his arms, and hank looking away as he holds Sean in his own furry arms, and they vanish in thin air.

All of the soldiers snap from their frozen poses and glance around, confused. Where had their enemy gone?

They have no time to think; they ran back the way they came right as a chuck of the bridge collapses into the water, the last two cables giving way under the sagging weight.


	48. 48: Conversation

_48. Conversion._

"We lost members of our family today," is spoken softly and brokenly as they look at the graves in the corner of the property. That same voice goes on to recount why the dead were loved, and how they will never be forgotten, and how revenge is not the route to go down, but restitution instead.

The plan is to address the president of the United States himself.

They go. They explain and plead and hold off guards and agents and speak civilly and calmly and prove how human they are, only with other gifts.

The president gives an address to the nation, and it's broadcasted all over the globe.

One long conversation. One even longer speech. One slow progression toward setting boundaries, ceasing battles, and building the beginnings of a road to acceptance, once city, one state, one country at a time.

The conversations grow and multiply. The years rush by.

The Xavier family grows from a household of fifty-plus students to over three hundred. They share rooms, they add an extra building, they become a fully realized institution. The government helps pay for it to help redeem themselves to the people they've wronged, the family they've broken up.

Rogue moves to take Bobby's hand through her glove, and give it a squeeze.

Jean presses a kiss to Scott's temple.

Storm turns her face into Beast's shoulder and holds him tightly.

Erik stands solemnly behind Charles, his hands on the telepath's shoulders. Before the war and its defining battle, Charles' legs fully regressed from older age, and he was reduced back into a wheelchair. But he remembers what it was like before, and that makes this time so much easier to bear.

The world starts to look a little brighter as more conversations and less breakout fights occur and spread across the States and across other continents.

Pathetically, a stern face-to-face conversation after pain and suffering was all that was needed to knock over the first domino and send the rest into a tipping chain to follow afterward.


	49. 49: Moment Lasting By

_49. Moment Lasting By._

It's years later that Charles sees the world almost fully changed. He himself is getting old, very old; and, honestly, he thought for a long while that he would never live to see this day. And, honestly, Erik never thought this day would come at all.

But they were both proven wrong.

Normal moments pass by. They come and go, they breeze past, and they never carry on for very long, merely flow into another moment.

But this moment… This shining moment as a world press is held on airing television during the spring of 2011, and every TV screen in the entire mansion is on a news station or another, witnessing it.

It's the Human Rights Association adding another article, an amendment of sorts, to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

_Article 31: Every mutant is considered a human born of human flesh and blood, and shall not be discriminated against no matter what mutation they possess; they will be given free rights and privileges, all of which that are known to non-mutated humans listed and aforementioned throughout this Declaration. All mutants will be aided if need be, and treated as equals, because they are genetically human._

This is truly a moment that is lasting by, lingering on every still breath being withheld in each mutant's lungs across the globe, from whoever owns a television or is in front of one in a street or public place to see this address.

Charles finally sheds a tear, and he squeezes Erik's hand. "Together, we did it, Erik. You and I have finally done it. The world is going to change, just you wait and see."


	50. 50: Peace At Last, Finale

**A/N: As promised, I have made it to 50! Thank you all for your kind words, support, and for sticking by me with this insane drabble series even as it drifted much too far from canon, skipped details, mixed up other things, and became too angsty or slashy (well, actually, I dunno if there is such thing as too much slash... XD ). **

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><p><em>50. Peace At Last (Finale).<em>

Storm smiles and kisses Professor Xavier on the cheek as she plops down into his bed beside him. Jean hurries in, holding Scott's hand, and Rogue and Bobby trail in after them. "Happy 90th birthday, Professor!" they cry out, laughing.

"I've got the cake! Out of the way, munchkins," Mystique snorts. She's returned for good, now, because there is nothing left to fight, and no reason to hide. Her son tags along by her side, glad to have a mother, even if she still looks young (no more than forty, thanks to her genetics), and he has fully grown already.

Logan grunts, but he's soon smiling, putting out his cigar and stuffing it into is pocket as he enters the old man's room. Gambit (another person they've picked up along the way to join the X-Men even after the war) pushes past the super-healer, and Logan merely sends the card player a glare.

Charles chuckles dryly, his voice weak, and he lifts a trembling hand to scratch near his ear on his bald, wrinkled head. "Cake? You spoil me. I'll die of diabetes before any of my main organs fail."

"Oh, shush, Charles," Mystique says oddly softly. She isn't kind to many people, too toughened by the ways of the world, but she is gentle to her son, and always her brother of years ago. "At least have a bite. You can manage that, can't you?"

"I can handle blowing out candles as well, you know," the telepath reminds with a twinkle in his warm blue eyes, turned a but grey around the rims from age. "I still have a few working body parts, my lungs, mind, and heart plenty strong."

"I know, I know," the blue woman smiles, and sets the tray over the bedcovers atop his again useless legs. "You've lived such a long, full, trying life, Charles. And I believe you have a few more stable years left in you."

"I would sure hope so," Charles agrees. He glances around. "Where's Erik? Bloody old chap is always late to everything."

"He's a bit older than you, Charles; he still has his legs, but it takes him a while to use them," Jean reminds softly.

Hank enters the room then, Erik Lehnsherr in tow. He hasn't called himself Magneto in over a decade. Storm moves out of the way, getting up from the bed to permit Erik to sit there instead. She moves over to Hank, planting a kiss on his lips, and then standing in his arms as they all gather 'round the two elderly men.

"We've lived through a great deal more since we last spoke of the past, Charles," Erik murmurs. "Back in '88. Do you remember? That was the day you talked me down from one of my rages, and it was the first time you verbally said that you love me."

"I remember," Charles murmurs. "Although," he adds with a smile, "It does help to peek into your mind and see the memory. My own is rather shot by now, my great mind aside."

Erik chuckles, and he looks down at the cake between them. "Shall I cut it for you?"

"Not before I light the sucker up and he blows the candles out," Pyro (John refuses to be called anything but) strolls in, lighter in hand. He flicks it open, stirs the flame, and takes it into his hands to send over to each candle, even at a distance. It whizzes past Bobby, and nearly grazes his clothing. Pryo teases him too much, but they truly are friends.

Candles lit, they sings to Charles, and soon, Erik is helping him blow them all out – all ninety of them – and even Jean moves past Logan to lean over and help them out with her lungs, even if she could have snuffed them out herself with her powers.

"Cheater; they helped you," Mystique teases lightly, but she's amused nonetheless.

They remove the candles, Erik cuts the cake by moving the metal spatula around in the air, and jean levitates plates for the spatula to dump slices onto. Everyone gets one, and even after they laugh and eat the birthday cake and leave, students pass by Charles' bedroom all day, saying, "Happy birthday, Headmaster!" as they walk by.

Erik turns to Charles in the evening and grasps his hand, choosing to sit up beside the other mutant in his bed. "You will never hear me speak this aloud again, but I have to say it: I was wrong, Charles. Peace didn't seem like an option, and yet here it is, pure serenity. We achieved that by choosing a side and methods together, instead of apart. And for the past few years, I have oddly been nothing but elated, as if my burdens have been listed. My past is a distance worry, foggy and imperfect, but no longer painful. And I think I have you to thank."

Charles shakes his head, smiling. "What a considerate gift for my birthday, Erik: your humbled honesty. Such a rare sight," he teases airily. He turns more serious, but not by too much. "However, I am not the one to thank. The children did it; they were our future and our answer all along. They helped ease the pain of your past by giving you fresh, more pleasant memories to erase the sorrowful and angry ones."

"I think you're right," Erik sighs, feeling relief. "I can never say thank you because they won't understand what for, but I am grateful to them. They have been wonderful children to us, Charles. They have been more of a family than I ever had, or thought I could have." Erik's eyes water, but he blinks away the tears. "And you more of a friend, companion, and partner than I had ever hoped to even dream of."

The words are so rare to be spoken aloud, the words at one point only a vague feeling Charles has stumbled across in the recesses of Erik's mind in the past, and it's such an unexpected thing to hear from the once-calloused man that it startles and bewilders the telepath for a moment.

Then, Charles is grinning.

"I feel the same, Erik. More than you can ever know in words, so here, let me show you."

He links them with invisible threads, pulling and projecting simultaneously so that Erik may hear Charles' thoughts and feel Charles' emotions. And it's entirely true, down to the core.

And it's the best birthday of Charles' life, because, finally, a solid semblance of peace has arrived in his heart, thanks to the closeness to peace has settled across the globe; as close as it can be, the same as any acceptance can be made for skin color or sexual orientation; made of flaws and exceptions and hints of negativity, but generally wholesome and bright, and shareable.

_The End._


End file.
